Heath rubbed his side and winced. He shifted on Paladin trying to get a more comfortable position. His ears still rang with Aaron's threat. Heath was late coming back from lunch and went right to class. Aaron caught up to him after school. Heath knew Nick was already on his way home and would be safe at the ranch until Monday. The blond had a dream the night before about his Uncle Matt, but the figure kept changing to Aaron Carson. Heath had been thinking on it all day and saw the similarity. He'd decided he was done paying Aaron. Aaron roughed him up a little and shoved him hard against the railing of the stairwell. He'd threatened Nick and warned Heath what a big mistake this was. Heath was glad a teacher interrupted them. He saw the bank and tied Paladin out front.

"Next." The clerk said in a bored tone. He saw a hand reach up and leaned over to see a small blond head. "Heath Barkley?"

"Yes Sir, I got some money for my account."

The teller smiled. Heath came in every week to deposit his allowance. Usually his father was with him. This was the first time the boy came alone. The teller picked up the box and frowned. Heath usually had only a half dollar to deposit. His mouth fell open at the numerous coins in the box. His eyes widened as the total of thirty-two dollars in silver.

"Heath, where did you get this money?" He demanded, eyeing the boy suspiciously.

"It's mine." Heath defended, "I want to put it with my other money, so's it'll be safe."

The teller was suspicious and recalled seeing Tom Barkley headed for his lawyer's officer earlier. He placed the money back in the bag. "Okay, Heath."

"Ya didn't give me the paper." Heath stated, refusing to move, despite the customer behind him moving in. "Ya know, where ya write down what I give ya and what my figure is. I want my paper."

"Very well," The harried clerk wrote out a receipt and handed it to the boy. Heath read it and checked the math and handed it back. "Ya made a mistake. I give ya thirty-two dollars and I had eight in here already, that should be forty dollars."

The clerk sighed in frustration and handed him a new reciept. "Is that alright?"

"Yeah, thanks." Heath nodded and left.

The clerk motioned to the other teller to cover for him. He picked up the small box and made his way across the street. He spotted Tom and Victoria exiting the Merchantile.

"Mr. Barkley...Do you have a minute?"

Tom turned and saw a clerk from the bank approaching. He scrambled trying to remember the boy's name.

"It's Daniel Young," Victoria whispered.

"What can I do for you Daniel?"

"Well, Heath just made a deposit and I thought you should know."

"He's very proud of his account," Tom smiled.

"Well I would be too if I was nine years old and had a thirty-two dollar deposit."

"WHAT!" Tom's voice rose "Are you sure?"

"Here it is," The clerk handed him the box, "Count it yourself. He even asked for a receipt."

"Where on earth did he get that much money?" Victoria asked out loud.

"I don't know," Tom replied, "But I intend to find out. Thanks Daniel. Can I keep this?".

"Sure Mr. Barkley, I'll explain it to Mr. Neville." He said of the Bank President.

After the clerk left, Tom eyed the faded figure of an Indian on the front. His frown gave Victoria pause.

"What is it, Tom?"

"This is the box Buck keeps the money for supplies in." Tom rubbed the back of his neck, "It's been missing about a month now."

"He wouldn't," Victoria said aghast. "You know Heath would never steal."

"No, he wouldn't." Tom frowned, "Unless he didn't know he was stealing. Could be Buck or one of the hands was careless with it and Heath found it. I guess there is only one way to find out."

Heath was climbing down from the attic and spotted Dante coming out of the bathroom. Dinner was in ten minutes and the older boy had washed and changed his shirt. He was about to call out to Dante, when Nick's head appreared in his doorway. Heath ducked out of view. He peeped out and saw the two talking and heard them laugh. Nick then went downstairs. Heath was glad Nick liked Dante.

"Pssstt!"

Dante turned around and saw Heath's head hanging upside down from above.

"You look like a monkey!" He chuckled.

"I need ya to come up here, I got a favor." Heath whispered.

Dante climbed the stairs and followed Heath across the large attic. He eyed the furniture, trunks and other scattered goods. There was a curtain extended across the end of the room. Heath disappeared behind it. Dante stuck his head around the edge and saw Heath standing by table. The small blond motioned for him to come closer. He lifted a cloth, which had been covering a object about eighteen inches square.

"Wow!" Dante amazed, truly impressed. "That's great. Did you make that?"

"It's my project for school. We all gotta enter one." Heath handed Dante a leather bound booklet, tied together by twine. "I wrote a story and did a picture."

Dante eyed the small stage Heath crafted out of wood. It was about eighteen inches long, twelve high and about seven or eight inches deep. A paper painted with several colors, was the backdrop. It depicted a castle perched on a rolling green hill in the background, with figures of people. Closer was a scarlet-cloaked figure with a crown and other royalty. Glued to the stage was a fine wooden horse, with a fabric blanket that matched the king's cloak. Upon his back was a knight with a sword in one hand. A dead dragon lie at his feet, glued to the small stage. Red gobs of blood around the beast's head. Dante was not only astounded that Heath thought of the idea, but the quality to the carving was extraordinary.

"I need ya to read it and see if it's okay. I ain't showed nobody. 'ceptin Buck, he helped me make the stage." Heath said proudly.

"It's incredible, Chico," He ruffled the fair hair. "You're a real artist. You're gonna win first prize for sure."

Heath beamed and sat on a bench, while Dante opened the book.

"Sir Nick the Knight and the Evil Dragon." Dante grinned at the carefully done block lettering. "by Heath T. Barkley. Hey, your name sure looks good."

"Yeah," Heath nodded, "I like it fine."

Dante read the story slowly, savoring each element and the beautiful illustrations Heath sketched to accompany it. Sir Nick was a knight of the realm of King Thomas the Fair. The kingdom had been threatened by an evil dragon. Sir Nick and Sir Dante, were the king's best two knights. He sent them to the Dragon's cave to fight him. Prince Jarrod, the King's son, sent their two best squires, Patrick and Heath along to assist. Dante's grin got wider and wider as the story unfolded and in the end Sir Nick was the one who slayed the dragon, saving his friends and the kingdom.

"Well?" Heath asked, tugging on Dante's sleeve. "Like it?"

"Are you kidding?" Dante flipped through, eyeing the drawings, "I'll tell you, Chico, I've read a lot of books. I don't know when I've read a better one. It's a great story, very exciting. Your pictures are terrific. But most of all, it tells me how happy you are living here with King Thomas."

"I sure hope my Pa likes it. I want him to be proud."

Dante squeezed the boy's shoulder and eyed the eyes he knew so well. "Heath, your father loves you. You never have to worry about how proud he is. I see it every time he looks at you. Come on, Chico, I'm hungry."

"So you think I'd make a good knight, huh?" Dante asked as they made their way downstairs.

"Nick and y'all would be the two best knights ever." Heath said "I sure am glad you're living here, Dante."

"Me too, Chico." Dante grinned.

Heath was bathed and ready for bed. He was finishing a letter to Patrick when there was a knock on his door.

"Yeah?"

"Heath, Can we come in?" Tom asked.

"Sure."

Tom and Victoria entered and closed the door behind them. They approached the small desk where Heath worked.

"I's writin' a letter to Patrick. I sure can't wait to see him. Is somethin' wrong?" He asked, reading his father's face.

"Heath, Did you go to the bank today?"

"Yes Sir," Heath nodded. "I remembered to get a receipt. That's was right, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was," Victoria answered, "But you made a rather large deposit."

"Heath, where did you get this money?" He asked, producing the box and opening the lid.

"I...It's....I didn't steal it," Heath blurted, standing defensively. He didn't want to get Wally in trouble. He wanted to wait until Sunday, so they could meet Wally and show them the work he'd done. Wally was going to the bank tomorrow to tell them.

"I know you didn't steal it, Son." Tom said, "You wouldn't steal. But it's a lot of money and I need to know how you came by it."

"I can't tell ya." Heath replied, angry that they questioned him and reading the accusation clearly.

Tom eyed the defiant stare and bristled, "Look, Heath, I want to know where you this money and I want to know now." Tom banged the box down, giving all the coins a great jump.

Heath shook his head and stared right back, "It's mine and I didn't do nuthin' wrong. Ya gotta believe me."

"Well, Son," Tom looked down, "You can stay in this room until you decide to answer my question."

"But Pa, that ain't fair. I didn't do nuthin' wrong." Heath protested.

"Your father's right, Heath. Why don't you tell us? Then you will be able to go with Nick and Dante to Devil's Canyon and watch the men round up those wild stallions."

Tom winced at the ache in his son's eyes. He knew how much the boy was looking forward to the trip. The three had talked about it all through dinner. But as fast as the hurt look appeared, the eyes grew cold and looked back up at Tom, giving him a chill.

"Reckon, I'll say goodnight then."

He folded his letter and placed it under a block of wood on the desk. He dropped to his knees to say his prayers. Victoria kissed the top of his head and exited. Tom stood behind him for a moment and tried one last time.

"Heath, Why won't you tell me?"

"Goodnight, Sir," He said without looking up.

Tom flinched and felt a physical pain as the word 'Pa' which had come to give him so much joy was so coldly and purposely replaced.

"Allright, Heath, goodnight."

He bent to kiss his son and Heath turned his head away. An action that wounded the patriarch. He stayed up that night, sipping brandy and watching the fire. Nick at least vocalized when they disagreed. Right or wrong, it jumped out of his mouth and off his chest. But this boy held his thoughts and feelings deeply. The determined eyes wouldn't give and inch. Tom would have to think of another approach.

"What did Buck say?" Victoria asked, crossing the bedroom into the adjacent sitting room.

"It's his box, and he claims he didn't misplace it. He figured it had about forty dollars in it when it disappeared. I was hoping Heath would volunteer the information." He sighed, "But I guess I have to tell him."

"...and that will hurt" Victoria read the pain in his eyes.

"Yes, it will." Tom said, staring into the fire.

Nick and Dante were already discussing the trip to the Canyon. Victoria eyed the sixteen-year old boy with a favorable eye. Nick Barkley loved horses and recognized Dante's respect for the equine's almost immediately. The older boy's quiet, easy going nature suited her teenage son's fiesty temperment. Tom entered and shook his head as he sat down. She placed her napkin on the table and frowned. She'd hoped, maybe after sleeping on it, Heath would relent.

"Not a word." was all Tom said, recalling the wall of silence that met his entry into the boy's bedroom. Heath had looked at him, listened to him and returned to bed, pulling his quilt up to his chin.

Tom took only coffee and some eggs. He finished and rose, motioning with his head at the two boys.

"Let's go. We've got some stallions to catch."

"What about Heath?" Dante asked, eyeing the empty spot at the table.

"He's not coming."

"Is is sick?" Dante's voice lowered, a little worried.

"No," was Tom's curt reply.

Nick scooped up the last of his eggs and gulped down his juice. "What? Did the little prince's halo fall off and bust one of Mother's vases?"

"Today Nick," He father called impatiently from the doorway as the boy stalled.

He frowned as he followed his father and Dante out to the barn. It wasn't like his father to be so angry, especially when it came to Heath. Ciego had the boy's horses ready and the pair mounted in silence. Nick hesitated, casting an eye back to the house, somehow wanting to will the little blond out the door.

"He's not coming, Nick." Tom said, "and we're late. You can stay, it's your choice."

Dante watched Tom Barkley leave and trotted over to Nick. He placed a hand on the other boy's shoulder. "Come on, Amigo, let's make tracks. Whatever happened, it's between Heath and your father. They'll get it fixed. I got my eye out for a white stallion."

"You need glasses," Nick tossed back, "Them eyes of yours are in bad shape."

The two rode away and Nick looked back once more, wincing as the curtain in Heath's room moved and a small head appeared.

"Stubborn little runt..." He muttered, "What did you go and do?"

Heath watched them ride away. He saw Nick turn and stare and felt a tingling in his stomach. He turned away and sat down at the desk. What hurt most was that his father didn't believe him? Wasn't his word good enough? His nine-year old mind couldn't understand why they didn't follow his logic. Heath finished his letter to Patrick and left it for Mrs. Barkley to take to the post office. He eyed the small calander on his desk. Mama's birthday was in two weeks. He remembered last year, and felt his chest tighten. She'd been happy and laughing. They made a special roast chicken dinner. Heath and Hannah made a cake. He'd saved enough money to order her a locket all the way from St. Louis. It was from a catalog that Aunt Rachel got in the mail. He remembered waiting every day for the box to come. Then the letter came, saying they didn't have any more and the next shipment wasn't for 'several weeks'.

Heath left his desk and crawled into the floor of the large closet in his room. He opened his old, tattered bag and pulled out the dark green velvet pouch. He carefully pulled the small velvet box from within. He gazed at the small gold heart shaped locket. It popped open for a picture to fit inside. There was a small pink rose etched on the front. He shut the box and placed it back in the bag. He sat for a moment, and brushed away an angry tear. The box came a week after they buried Mama. He went back to the desk and pulled out a clean sheet of paper. He put Mama's birthdate on top and began to write.

Victoria took a lunch tray up to Heath. She tapped lightly on the door and opened it a crack when she got no response. He was asleep, curled up in ball on top of his neatly made bed. She left the tray on his bedside table. She brushed the blond bangs from his face and saw the tear streaked cheeks. Her heart ached for this boy who so stubbornly shut her out . She carefully place a kiss on the tracks of the tears and left.

It was late when they returned. Nick was exhausted but jubuliant. He couldn't believe how talented Dante was. His father had allowed the older boy to participate. Nick watched in awe at how graceful the other boy was and how smart his moves were. He heard Duke and his father praise the boy, both amazed at his natural ability. They'd had a full day and were tired and dirty. Nick glanced at the closed door of Heath's room and felt guilty at how much he'd enjoyed himself.

"Baths...both of you." Victoria ordered, "Upstairs now and leave those clothes for Silas. When you're finished, come down to the kitchen. Silas will give you some supper."

Both boys marched upstairs and Tom went to his study. Victoria followed them and tapped on Heath's door. She heard the soft footfall and saw the same mask he'd worn all day.

"Your father is waiting for you in the study."

Tom looked up when Heath entered. Buck was on the dark leather sofa. Victoria followed Heath in and joined Tom by the fireplace. Heath walked slowly across the room and sat on the sofa.

"Hey there little feller," Buck greeted, "Missed ya today."

"Heath, I am going to ask you on more time." Tom said calmly, "Where did you get this money?"

"I told ya." Heath said crossly, his face annoyed, "I didn't steal it. It's my money."

"What about the box?" Victoria asked. "Did you know that box belonged to Buck?"

"Huh?" Heath's confusion was genuine and they all knew he was sincere. "I didn't know that. Honest. I found it by the bridge. I's comin' from school one afternoon and stopped to let Paladin get a drink. That's when I seen it. I'm real sorry, Buck. I didn't know."

"That's okay Son," Buck eased, patting the small boys' knee. "I'm not cross with ya."

"Was this money in the box?" Tom asked.

"No Sir," Heath persisted, "That's my money. All's that was in that box was a funny cigar."

"Funny how?" Tom asked.

"It was all skinny and little. It sure did stink. I had to air that box out good."

"A cheroot?" Tom frowned, trying to make a connection.

"Damn..." Buck smacked the table and jumped up. "I should have seen it sooner. Lorenzo Tait. It had to be him."

"Tait..." Tom pursed his lips and shook his head. "I don't recall...Oh wait a minute. Tall, thin and sneaky looking. He wasn't here that long."

"Long enough to rob us." Buck shook his head. "I didn't miss that box until a week after he left. I only get it out on Fridays. He hightailed out the week before."

Heath looked between all three adults and stood, his face furious. His small fists clenched. He ran room.

"Heath come back here." Tom called, following him. "HEATH!"

Nick and Dante heard the call and came into the hall above. Nick was wet and clad in a towel.

"What's going on?" He called down.

"Heath, wait a minute." Tom caught his arm, but Heath struggled.

"Let me go!" He squealed. "Ya thought I took it! Ya thought I stole Buck's money."

"Calm down and listen to me."

"NO! How could ya think that?" He stop struggling and cast his pained eyes upwards.

"Stop talkin' crazy," Nick hollered, dripping on the stairs. "'course you wouldn't steal anything. What's he talking about?"

"Nick get dressed. Dante get your bath." Victoria directed.

Nick recognized the tone and the look his mother wore. He paused just behind Heath and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "You okay, Runt?" He asked gruffly, feeling Heath's pain and not understanding why. The small head nodded once and Nick retreated.

By the time Nick and Dante were dressed, Heath had disappeared back into his room. They moved in unison, knocking and then entering. Heath looked up from where he sat, cross legged on the bed. Nick and Dante flanked him.

"Hey, Chico." Dante said softly.

"Okay Runt, What's going on?" Nick barked.

"I didn't steal anything. It's my money. I worked hard for it."

"Well why didn't you tell Father that?" Nick hissed, jumping up and pacing.

"I can't...not yet...I promised." Heath faltered.

"How much money was in the box, Heath?" Dante asked.

"Thirty-two dollars."

"THIRTY TWO DOLLARS." Nick hollered, "From where?"

"I can't tell ya. Not yet. I don't want no trouble for Wally."

"Wally?" Nick's face screwed up. "Who the hell's Wally?"

"Heath, start at the beginning." Dante suggested.

"Wally and me got a job...and we got paid two dollars a week. I needed the money."

"Wait a minute..." Nick's eyes narrowed. "Is that where you been disappearing to at lunch and after school." He asked and saw the blond head nod once. "You don't gotta work like that no more. We got plenty of money. Is he from Stockton. I don't know any Wally's."

"No. He's from..." Heath bit off his answer, "He ain't from around here."

"Heath, why did you need the money?" Dante asked.

"I can't tell y'all." Heath bit his lip. "Not yet..."

"A stranger!" Nick roared, "What's the matter with you? That's dangerous and you should better. He could be some kind of nut."

"He is not" Heath shoved Nick hard, and pounced on top of him, "You take that back. You take that back." He pummeled Nick with his fists.

"Heath! Stop it." Dante pulled him off the irate Nick and held tight.

"You're crazy!" Nick scrambled to his feet. "I don't know what possessed me to come in here. You're on your own." He stalked from the room.

"What's going on?" Tom's voice sounded from the stairway. The commotion brought him up from the lower level of the house.

"Don't tell, please, Dante." Heath pleaded. "You can't..."

"What are you so afraid of, Chico?" Dante gripped his shoulders.

Before Heath could answer, his father was in the room.

"Me and Nick had a fight and Dante busted it up." Heath said.

Tom eyed both boys and knew there was more to the story.

"It's late and you both should be in bed. Go on, Dante." He nodded as the older boy left. Heath returned to his bed and pulled his covers up.

Sunday morning was a crisp, sunny autumn day. The family was dressed and readying for their departure. Heath was the last out. He had a hard time falling asleep and ended up oversleeping.

He walked carefully to the barn, not wanting to drop his project. Nick was already on Coco. He didn't even look Heath's way. Dante lingered in the barn, while Tom and Victoria were in the buggy with Audra.

The horse race was scheduled for ten a.m, followed by a picnic lunch and then in the afteroon, all the projects would be displayed for the judges to review. A formal dinner at the Cattleman's club for the parent's, judges and sponsors would be held that evening. The funds raised went towards the scholarship fund.

"Where do you think you're going?" Tom asked.

"To the Fair..." Heath cocked his head.

"Do you have something to tell me?"

"No, Sir, not yet." Heath stated, "I can't...but I'll explain it all later."

"Very well," Tom said. "You think about it and I'll be back after the race."

"But...I." Heath started, and cast an eye back to his horse. No, he decided he wouldn't beg. He'd given his word and he'd keep it. He felt Dante's hand on his back and turned. Dante took the covered project.

"I'll take care of it, Heath." He said, placing it carefully in the wagon. "Are you sure?"

"Yup." Heath nodded, eyeing the older boy. "Y'all can race Paladin for me. We been practicin'"

Dante shook his head and sighed. He climbed on Paladin and followed the Barkley's into town.

Heath worked around the barn and finished his chores. He leaned against the doorframe and eyed the empty yard. His gaze was drawn to the road that led to town. He'd planned on staying close to Nick, in case Aaron gave him trouble. Dante would be there, but Dante didn't know about Aaron. He recalled the route of the race, which extended around town and down by the river, before heading back to the school grounds. What if Aaron and his friends hurt Nick? What if Nick was lying on the road somewhere hurt? He felt his heart hammering and dropped his rake. He saddled Lancelot and quickly headed for the school

Dante was talking with some of the other boys, when he saw Heath ride up. He glanced back at the school building, where the Barkley's were. He quickly moved to the horse's side, before Heath had a chance to dismount.

"What are you doing here? You heard what your father said."

"Dante, where's Nick?"

Dante frowned at the frantic tone to the boy's voice and the fear in his eyes, "What's wrong? What's happened?"

"Nothing, I hope." Heath panted, "Please, where is he?"

"Coco pulled up lame and Nick wanted to rest her. He'll be back soon."

"Oh no…it's all my fault." Heath fretted, trying to pull away.

"Heath what is the matter with you?"

"Aaron's gonna get him and it's all my fault 'cause I didn't give him the money. Come on, we gotta find him."

"Heath…" Dante's face furrowed as Heath pulled free and headed up the road to the river. He ran back and grabbed Paladin's reins and took chase.

Heath raced like the wind and spotted Coco grazing under a tree. He didn't see Nick anywhere. He slid off Lancelot and his eyes tore up the landscape. His heart was pounding so hard it hurt. He wanted to scream Nick's name, but his voice was frozen. The he saw Nick's body face down by the river.

"No…No…" He whispered, moving his legs until he was close to Nick "NICK!"

Nick jumped up so fast, he almost lost his balance and nearly went into the river. He felt Heath before he saw him. His brother was buried in his chest, sobbing.

"What's the matter with you?" He growled, "You nearly gave me a heart attack screaming like that."

"I thought ya was dead…I couldn't find ya…I thought he stabbed ya when I saw ya laying like that…I's so scared, Nick…I thought ya was dead…it's all my fault." He sobbed, between hiccups.

Nick was dumbstruck and tossed a confused look to Dante, who stood uncomfortably nearby. The older boy shrugged and shook his head, indicating that he didn't know what the problem was. Nick was uncomfortable and didn't like this one bit. He stood woodenly, not sure of what to do with his arms. Heath continued to sob, clinging to him. He thought back on the fractured sentence bits offered.

"Knock it off, Runt, I can't understand ya." Nick shook one shoulder hesitantly, "What's this nonsense about me being stabbed and dead?"

"Aaron…said…he'd get ya…so I give him the money…only on…on Fri…day…I…I…told 'im I's not giving him no more." Heath managed between gasps, unwilling to relinquish his spot from Nick's chest.

"Aaron Carson?" Nick grimaced, then put more pieces together. "Has he been strongarmin' you for money?" Nick's voice rose and he looked down and saw the head nodding. "For how long?"

"Since…school start…started…" Heath choked. "Half..dollar…a week…"

"A half-dollar," Nick shouted, shaking Heath's shoulder. "Why would you do something so stupid?"

"I told 'im no, first off," Heath hiccuped, looking up at Nick who instantly winced at the terrified face. "But then he busted ya up…and …and…he said next time he'd use the knife…it was an awful big knife" Heath coughed and buried his face again.

"Busted me up?" Nick frowned, "That oaf couldn't bust me if I was tied up. Why would you think that?"

"…but he did Nick…I seen it…yer wrist and eye…" Heath glanced up and then thought of the knife. "I told 'im yesterday…no more money and …and…he…he said …he's gonna get ya…and when ya didn't finish the race…and I seen ya layin' there… I thought…I thought." Heath's sentence ended with a burst of sobbing.

Nick's fury rose and he felt a burning pain inside, the depths of which he'd never encountered. He blinked and realized without knowing, he'd placed his arms around the smaller boy and drawn him close, rubbing his back. "Alright, Runt, cut that out," He ordered, "and don't be wipin' your nose on my shirt neither," He directed, pulling the body away from his. "First of all, Aaron never laid a finger on me, I got in a fight with a couple guys from my class in the barn. Second, turn off that waterfall, I ain't having no brother of mine bawlin' like a damn baby. Now, get down the river and wash your face off. You're a mess and we got work to do."

Heath hiccuped and his shoulders heaved as he reclaimed his breath. He felt Nick's hand on his back as he walked a few feet to the water's edge. Suddenly he turned and looked up at Nick.

"What?" Nick frowned.

"Ya…ya…called me broth…brother…" Heath amazed, eye's wide like the sky. "Ya ain't…never…never called me that before." He punctuated with a hiccup.

Nick recoiled is if struck by a bullet. He looked down at his brother's face and those damned blue eyes, but something different filled his chest. There was no pain, but in it's wake, a warm feeling, accented with tingles and pins and needles. A word formed in his head 'protect' and then a silent voice echoed in his mind 'protect him'. He found himself nodding, and felt an overwhelming tide of emotion take hold. As if it had been born to him, he welcomed the role and relished the new job. He wrapped a strong arm around the smaller boy's shoulders as he washed his face. He eyed the sky, as blue as his brother's brilliant eyes, "I will…" He said.

"You will what Nick?" Heath mumbled from the water.

"Huh…nuthin' Runt." He said gruffly, "Look at me a minute." Nick knelt and waited until Heath faced him. "About the brother thing. I know I been giving you a pretty rough time…and well…if it's okay with you, I'd like that a lot."

"Okay?" Heath hiccuped, "Are ya kiddin' me? Nick I ain't never wanted nuthin' so much in my life. Yer a great brother, Nick. Reckon I'm the luckiest boy in these parts. I's gonna be just like ya, I'm tryin' real hard."

Nick swallowed back the emotional wave that got as far as his throat. How on earth did he warrant such unflagging loyalty? He took several deep breaths and rubbed his eyes. "Listen Runt, if anybody's been lucky, it's me. You just keep on bein' Heath Barkley and let me be Nick. You've taught me more than I could ever teach you. Okay, Little Brother?" He grinned, ruffling the blond hair.

Dante stood a few feet away and found a smile. He'd fought everything inside him not to rush to Heath's side when he screamed Nick's name. He wanted to wrap his arms around the small blond and comfort him. But he realized that both brothers needed this moment, this defining moment. It was a long time coming and Nick needed it desperately.

"Okay, Nick." Heath grinned back and hiccuped.

"Damn Kid, don't tell me you've been drinking too?" Nick teased, tickling Heath, who's giggle was wonderful and infectious.

Dante hesitated as the mantle was passed. He felt a twinge of pain, but then it was replaced by a warm, happy feeling. He followed a few feet behind as the two reached the horses. Nick jumped up on Lancelot and pulled Heath up behind him. He saw Dante and their eyes locked. Both new, without saying a word. Nick held his hand out and Dante took it. Nick knew how hard it must have been for the older boy, who cared for his brother, to take a step back. "Thanks, Dante." He said somberly.

"Anytime, Chico," Dante replied, staring at Nick hard. "Hold up, Heath, I'll tuck your shirt in," Dante said, picking up the long white shirttail. His hands froze as he saw the blue and purple bruise. He ran his hand lightly over the spot and Heath yelped.

"What's wrong?" Nick demanded, climbing down.

"Take a look," Dante said raising the shirt. "Heath, what happened?"

"I…uh…on Friday when I told Aaron, I's not payin' him no more…"

"HE DID THIS!" Nick shouted, pulling Heath's arm and saw the blond head nod. "Son-of-bitch…" He growled jumping into the saddle.

"What are you gonna do, Nick?" Dante held his leg, worried at the dark, raging face of his friend.

"I'm gonna make that maggot-eatin' cretin sorry he was ever born." Nick snarled, "Nobody lays a hand on my brother, NOBODY!" He turned back, 'Hang on Runt." He paused eyeing Dante, "Well, get saddled, boy, we got business to take care of."

"Yes, Sir!" Dante grinned and saluted. As they rode to town, Dante couldn't help but smile at the glow on Heath's face at Nick's emphasis on the words 'my brother'

The three boys stood on the edge of the long grassy knoll and eyed the crowd below.

"There's a whole lotta people," Heath squinted, "I don't see him."

"We gotta split up." Nick decided, "You stick with Dante, since he don't Aaron." Nick told Heath. "I'll go left, you go right. We'll meet at that gate with the orange ribbons on it." He pointed dead center.

Nick covered his half quickly, as it was mostly adults and visitors. Heath and Dante made slower progress. Heath tugged at Dante's sleeve and pointed to Aaron and two of his friends, who were standing down a ways, near a cluster of trees. "The tallest one," Dante asked and Heath nodded, "Get Nick."

"Don't Dante," Heath pleaded, seeing the angry eyes of his friend. "There's too many of 'em."

But Dante disappeared through the crowd and Heath bolted, looking for his brother. He didn't have to go far. Nick found him.

"Where's Dante?" Nick demanded.

"He went after Aaron, and told me to get you. Hurry Nick."

Aaron wasn't prepared and felt himself slammed hard against the tree. His lip and nose began to bleed and he began to squeal and squirm. His arm was twisted up behind his back.

"What's the matter with you?" He choked, "Who are you?"

"Your worst nightmare." Dante seethed. "I know about cowards like you. Preying on the smaller and weak. You made a big mistake messing with Heath Barkley."

Aaron's two friends took one look at the older boy and saw Nick Barkley approached and decided to split. Nick was soon abreast of the pair.

"I was just holding him for you Nick." Dante tossed, releasing the bully.

Nick stood back and waved his hands. "Come on, Carson. Give me your best. I know that's a stretch for you since you prefer little kids."

"I got no beef with you." Carson spit out a wad of blood, and eyed Dante. "Was mindin' my business until that half-breed jumped me

Nick growled and launched himself at Aaron, spilling them down a short hill. For a few minutes, punches were exchanged until Nick gained the upper hand. Aaron quickly surrendered, cowering.

"You make me sick," Nick spat, and leaned low, looking into the trembling boy's eyes, "You so much as breathe on my brother and I'm gonna tear your arm off and beat ya on the head with it. Now, get up!"

Nick kept a firm hold of Aaron's arm, twisted up his back. He paused and felt Dante's hand on his shoulder.

"Well done, Chico, Gracias,"

"Anytime, Amigo!" Nick grinned.

"What are ya gonna do, Nick?" Heath asked.

"Something that should have been done a long time ago."

Victoria and Tom had lunch inside the school with some of the other parents, dignitaries and visitors. This was one of two fundraisers the school held during the year. Tom pried some of his San Francisco Business tycoon associates down for the day. They were standing in a semi-circle chatting when they noticed a stir among the crowd.

"Looks like some of the local urchins are creating a disturbance." A wealthy oil magnate at Tom's right hand stated.

Tom winced and let out a deep breath. "I'm afraid those urchins are mine." He admitted, spotting Dante and Heath, disheveled and dirty and Nick who was sporting torn clothes and a bloodied, bruised face. Aaron Carson was being dragged in front of Nick.

"Really?" The man seemed distressed and moved away, "Most unbecoming."

"Nick!" Tom hissed, feeling every eye trained on them. "What's the meaning of this?"

"Tell him," Nick teethed, ignoring his father and forcing Carson on his knees at Peter Carrington's feet. "You tell him or I'll knock every tooth down that yellow throat of yours. TELL HIM!" Nick shouted.

"Nicholas Barkley," The school head seethed, "What is the meaning of this?"

"Alright, I'll tell him." Nick stated, turning his eyes to the principal. "He's been strong armin' my brother for a half-dollar a week since school began." Nick paused and flicked his head, bringing Dante forward. The older boy held out the knife. "He told Heath he was gonna carve me up with that thing if he didn't pay."

"Is this true, Aaron?" The principal asked. Aaron voice didn't work and he meekly nodded.

"Say it!" Nick growled, kicking his leg.

"Yeah, I done it…" He muttered.

Peter Carrington took the knife and motioned towards the hallway. "Mr. Barkley, boys, if you'll follow me."

Nick got cleaned up and waited with Dante outside, while the principal spoke with Tom Barkley, Heath, Aaron and his father. Ten minutes later, the Carsons left. Dante shook his head in disgust. The elder Carson's anger was at being embarrassed in front of the whole school. No wonder the kid was a mess, with a father like that. A few minutes later, the two Barkley's emerged. The principal excused himself and rejoined the party. Tom sat down and stood Heath in front of him.

"Heath, I know you felt you were protecting your brother, but do you understand now why what you did was wrong?"

"Yes Sir," Heath nodded, "Guys like Aaron, and Uncle Matt…well, they's the same. Givin' in to 'em is makin' it worse. Ya ought never do business with no coward like them. I'm sorry."

"I am too, Heath." Tom placed a hand on his shoulder, "But I'm glad you're alright and that you learned your lesson." He looked up at Nick stood next to Heath and placed an arm around him.

"Are you okay, Son?" He stood and tilted his middle son's chin to eye the damage.

"I'm fine." Nick squirmed, "I'm sorry about the ruckus…guess them blue-blood tongues will be waggin' but good."

"Let them." Tom grinned, "Their just jealous of my boys…" He bragged, gathering his sons close. He looked around "Seems I'm missing a boy…Dante, get over here."

The older boy blushed and joined the group. He felt taller somehow in Tom's Barkley's embrace and felt his chest stick out just a bit.

"Pa," Heath tugged, "I'm getting squished down here."

"Sorry, Son," Tom chuckled, disbanding the group.

"Pa, about that money…" Heath began.

"Mr. Carson is going to refund your money, Heath. Aaron won't be attending this school anymore."

"Good riddance!" Nick stated.

"No, Sir, not that money, my thirty-two dollars. I can 'splain it now. Ya see, I needed the money to give Aaron. So's I needed to get a job." Heath began as they entered the large dining area where the guests were. "So I…' He paused and bolted "WALLY! Hey Wally, ya made it. Boy Howdy, I can't believe y'all is really here. Wait 'til ya meet ma Pa!" he boomed, tugging on the grinning man's hand.

"I am delighted to see you too again, my young friend."

The upper crust of San Francisco society who were standing with Wallingford Standish were shocked at the change him. A man who rarely showed emotion and didn't really have time for personal situations, was now on his knees embracing a blond child. One of the wealthiest men in the world, known for his stoicism was now laughing heartily and enjoying it.

"Wally?" Tom's face screwed up. "Wallingford Standish…he's your friend from school? The one you've been working with?"

"Yes Sir, " Heath announced proudly, "We's a real good team. Ain't that right, Wally?"

"Absolutely my hard-working chum," He said warmly, standing and gripping Heath's shoulders. "Mr. Barkley, are you claiming this fine young man as your own?"

"I am Mr. Standish," Tom grinned, eyeing his moppet.

"Well then Sir," The millionaire extended his hand, "Then I am in your debt. I've traveled this earth far and wide. I attended some of the finest learning institutions on this planet. I've worked with brilliant men." He paused and ruffled Heath's hair. "But I learned more in the last eight weeks from this courageous young lad…" He paused, tightening his jaw, "well, Sir, you are to be commended as is his late mother."

"Thank You," Tom replied sincerely taking the offered hand. "I'm very proud of Heath and all my sons." He said, introducing Nick and Dante.

"Ya see, Pa" Heath interrupted, "Wally met me right after I had the run-in with Aaron. I's lower than an ant's belly, I reckon. Anyhows, he found out about the old cottage. We fixed it up and the man from the bank paid us. It was my money, Pa. I worked real hard."

"He certainly did. The boy is exceptionally bright and would make a fine engineer."

"No, thanks Wally," Heath shook his head, misinterpreting."I don't like trains much."

"Oh, I am going to miss you," Standish laughed.

"'sides, Nick needs me, Ain't that right, Nick?" He crooked his head backwards to find his brother.

"Right as rain, Runt!" Nick grinned.

"Can we show 'em, Wally?"

"I don't see why not."

"Heath, why didn't you tell me about Mr. Standish." Tom inquired

"Who's Mr. Standish?" Heath asked, head cocked at the laughing adults. Nick caught Heath's eye and pointed. "Oh, ya mean Wally? I give my word Pa and shook on it. I always keep my word."

"I'm sorry for this misunderstanding Tom," Standish said guiltily "I had no idea."

"I guess we all learned a lesson. Well, let's go see this project. We don't want to miss the contest finals."

"Wow!" Tom astonished, as they stood at the gate, "I can't believe it."

"Neither can I, " Victoria added, "I've driven past this old place for years. I had no idea it was so quaint. Heath, you did a fine job."

"Thanks."

They took a quick tour and Standish pulled Tom aside. "Can I speak with you a moment? I feel I need to clarify things. I did meet your boy that first day and saw a need. I purchased this property from the bank. Heath mentioned his Aunt Rachel and I thought perhaps it might suit her. I'll inform the bank of my decision and my client. I think thirty-two dollars should cover it. I'll invest it for Heath in some stock."

"I don't know what to say, Mr. Standish," Tom replied, "Thank you. You have no idea what this will mean to him. I'm glad he found you that day."

"My close friends call me Wally," He smiled and eyed the excited blond boy across the room, "and you could say Heath and I found each other. He's changed my life."

They returned to the school and Heath tugged on the old man's hand "Come on, Wally. I want ya to see my project."

The small group stood at the table where Heath's project was displayed. Tom and Victoria stood back while Heath showed Wally his book and the small stage. Whatever Wally said caused Heath to beam. The older man stood back, when he saw Nick approach. He joined the two Barkleys, letting Heath share a moment with his brother.

"Young Man," Wally said to Tom, "You have no idea how I envy your wealth."

Tom saw him staring at his sons with envy and a little sorrow. "It's been quite some time since anybody called me 'young man'" Tom laughed, "and Thank You, I'm very proud of them. A man's family is his greatest treasure. My father taught me that a long time ago and I hope my boys' do the same with their children."

"You have nothing to fear," Standish replied, "That light in their eyes that shines brightly, cannot be learned or bought. That comes from you. Well, I must go and mix with my boring compatriots from the hill. I'll expect you to call upon me in San Francisco."

"And we'll expect you to come and stay with us. Heath is quite attached to you." Victoria took his arm. "I'm sure you'll miss him."

"You have no idea…" The old man's voice wavered as he left.

Nick formed a crooked grin at the title of the book and read every page carefully. He felt his chest tighten and felt moisture welling up in his eyes.

"Nick," Heath tugged at his sleeve, 'Hey Nick, ya like it?"

"This ain't bad, Runt," He choked, afraid anymore words would show the crack in his voice. He took several seconds to get himself under control. He bent down and eyed the small wooden sculpture. "Heath, my feet ain't that big." Nick complained, "ya made 'em bigger than the horses."

"I ain't got the feet down yet." Heath apologized," I only do horses good."

"S'okay, Runt," Nick clapped a hand on his shoulder, "It'll do…It'll do just fine."

And do just fine is exactly what it did. The first place ribbon was the first thing Heath ever won. He beamed all the way home. The house was dark and quiet and Tom was alone in the study. He turned the lamp down and headed for bed. He spotted Dante coming down the stairs.

"You're up late. Are you okay?" He asked, concerned.

"Yes, Sir," the boy nodded, "I wanted to say…today at the school." He shifted and stood next to Tom, "When you called me…said …my boy's…it meant a whole lot." He paused, groping with his emotions. "You're so much like my father was…for a minute it was almost like he was…it felt like…I just wanted to say Thanks…" He fumbled, dropping his head.

"Dante," Tom said gently, waiting for the boy's head to rise, "I consider that a great compliment. The man that you are is due to the man that created and raised you. I'm honored that you think of me in that light." He paused, smiling and putting an arm around the boy's shoulders as they walked upstairs. "You're a member of this family now, and I'd be proud to call you son."

"Thank you, Sir," Dante returned the embrace, "Goodnight."

Tom watched him turn the corner of the hall and noticed Heath's door open. He was about to close it and spotted Nick sitting by the bed.

"Nick?"

"I'm goin'" Nick got up, putting Heath's arm under the blanket and pulling the quilt up.

He joined his father in the hall and cast an eye back to the bed. "I just wanted to sit with him for awhile. All the grief I put him through…" Nick shook his head, "Stupid little runt wants to be just like me. He ain't got any sense."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Tom said looking hard at his middle child. "I'd say he's got a damn good role model. Goodnight Son."

"Goodnight Father."

Victoria and Tom were enjoying brandy in the parlor. It was late on a Friday night and the house was quiet. Victoria was reading a novel and Tom was drafting a letter to Jarrod. Victoria’s peripheral vision detected movement. She looked up and saw a flash of blond hair. Too tall for Audra, she mused. She put the book down and leaned forward on the settee.

"Heath, is that you?"

"Yes, Ma’am," a hesitant voice responded.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, Ma’am."

"Is there a reason I can’t see you?"

Heath’s head poked around the door and she beckoned him. He instinctively moved towards Tom, but then corrected himself and walked over to where she sat. She saw the sheets of notepaper in his hand, but didn’t comment.

"Why are you up so late, Son? Tom asked.

"I was wonderin’…I needed a favor, Ma’am."

"What is it?"

"Uh…" He frowned, shifted nervously. She laid a hand on his shoulder and felt the tension, but he didn’t pull away. He pulled the papers around in front of him and cast a set of shy eyes at her. She saw the apprehension and tried to ease his mind.

"Is there something I can help you with, Heath."

"Yes, Ma’am…It’s Mama’s birthday tomorrow and I wrote her a letter. So’s she’d

know I’s alright."

"That’s a lovely idea, Heath. Did you need some help with it?"

"No Ma’am…well I’s wonderin’ iffen y’all would take a look at it. I want it to

be just right for her."

"I’d be glad to help, Honey," She rubbed his arm, "Why don’t you sit down?"

Heath took a seat and gingerly handed the pages to the kind woman. Sitting so close to her made his heart hurt again. He wanted to hug her so bad. He threw a glance over and saw her eyes starting to fill up. He frowned and dropped his head, wondering what he did wrong. He was so sure she’d like it. If she didn’t maybe Mama wouldn’t.

Victoria read the letter, capturing every crooked word in the wonderful childish scrawl. It detailed his time at Good Shepherd and his friends there, his arrival at the ranch and his new school, life and friends. It was full of adoration for Nick and Tom. Her eyes filled with tears at the small boy’s heart was poured into the loving note. Between every word were his hopes and

faith, his fears chased away. But the closing caused her eyes to spill over.

"I sure do miss ya, Mama. I ‘specially miss yer hugs in the mornin’ when ya would wake me up. I miss talkin’ after prayers at night and ya rubbin’ my back when I’s sick. Mrs. Barkley sure is nice. She’s smells real good, just like y’all and she’s taking good care of me. So’s I don’t want ya worrin’ none. I reckon ain’t no boy ever had it so good. I hope ya ain’t sick no more…Aunt Rachel said yer an angel now, and I’m glad. ‘cause Rev. White had me worried …I been tryin’ to remember ya singin’ to me, but sometimes it gives me a heart pain. Anyhow, Happy Birthday Mama. Love, Heath."

She sat for several seconds and didn't speak. She felt the small hand on her cheek and turned to see the young boy brushing away her tears. He looked like he’d lost his last friend.

"I'm sorry…I worked real hard on it. I did my best. Reckon I’ll think on it somemore."

"Heath," She faltered, taking a breath to compose herself. "Don’t you change a thing in this letter. It’s a beautiful letter and your mother will love it."

"Y’all liked it?" Heath cocked his head. "But ya was cryin’?"

"Those are happy tears, Honey." She said, folding the letter and handing it back. "I want to thank you for allowing me the priviledge of reading this. I know how personal it was for you. It means a great deal to me."

"No, Ma’am, it’s me that needs to be thankful." Heath paused. "I was wonderin’ iffen I could take it to her."

"I think that’s a wonderful idea, Heath." Tom replied, walking across the room, "We’ll leave right after breakfast."

"I wanted her to take me," Heath said, standing by Victoria.

Victoria was so startled she jerked her head around. Tom met her eyes and sent a silent message. It was the right time, Heath needed to put the past behind him and embrace his new mother. Maybe this letter was his way of saying goodbye. She nodded, and squeezed his shoulders.

"Thank you, Heath, I’d be honored. We’ll leave after breakfast."

He sighed and placed a small kiss on her cheek.. "I sure am glad. I’ve been worryin’ on it for a spell now. Thanks, Ma’am."

"Goodnight, Heath." She nodded as he turned to leave.

They left after an early breakfast. Heath yawned and tried to stay awake, but the lull of the buggy and his lack of sleep the night before made it hard. He glanced sideways at Victoria Barkley and tried to settle his stomach down.

Victoria saw the stolen glances and sleepy face. She knew just how he felt. She was a little nervous herself. This trip was a passage for her too. She wasn't sure how Heath would react. She knew a part of him was fighting to make the change. It was a very brave thing to do and she was proud of him. She smiled at the boy's attempt to stifle a yawn.

"Didn't you sleep well?"

"No, Ma'am...Reckon it's all them frogs jumpin' in m'stomach."

"We still have a ways to go." She noted, patting her lap, "Why don't you lay your head down and rest your eyes? Maybe those frogs will go away?"

"Thanks, Ma'am, but it wouldn't be right." He stated, then saw her confusion. "Leavin' y'all to drive with no company. A gentlemen wouldn't do nuthin' like that."

"A gentlemen?" She smiled. "How about a tired little boy? It would make me feel better."

Heath studied her and cocked his head, "Well, I reckon, iffen I just rested m'eyes for a bit, that'd be okay."

The morning sun gave way to clouds and by the time they reached their destination, a wind started to kick up, bringing angry black clouds. Strawberry was a small town and Victoria felt every eye on her as she made her way through town. The cottage was on the outskirts, just as Heath told her. Rachel's things were forwarded to Stockton, to her new cottage. Rachel was attending her niece's wedding in Chicago and would be arriving in Stockton sometime in the next few weeks. Victoria pulled the team in and shook the boy's shoulders. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"Heath, we're here." She said gently, watching him blink and get his bearings.

"Y'all tricked me." He protested, "I wasn't supposed to sleep all the way."

"It's a mother's trick," She teased, stretching and eyeing the sky. "We'd better hurry. There's a terrible storm coming."

"Yes Ma'am, looks like a real shoutin' match." He proclaimed, eyeing the angry clouds and the wind that stung his face. "It's right up the road. I'd like to get some flowers. They's in the back."

"That's a fine idea. Flowers would be lovely." Victoria followed him around the small house and saw the garden. Heath carefully selected certain flowers and tried to hold them so they wouldn't bunch up. "Here," She said, pulling the ribbon from the collar of her dress. "Let's tie them up."

"Hey, that's blue," Heath said, "It's Mama's favorite color."

"Mine too," she added, tying the flowers, "Just like your eyes."

They walked to the cemetery and she felt him stiffen and back against her. She glanced down and spotted terror in his eyes. She placed her right hand across his chest and followed his fearful eyes. A small church stood at the edge of the cemetery. She prodded him gently and they continued. She felt the small hand slip in hers and felt the deathgrip. She eyed the church again and remembered Rachel's words about the small minded minister and Heath's cryptic message in his letter.

Heath knelt by the grave and placed the flowers at the edge of the stone. He bowed his head and said a prayer. He glanced backwards at Victoria, who was behind him.

"Would you like a moment to visit with your mother alone?" She inquired, reading his mind.

"Yes, Ma'am." He nodded, "Thanks." She started to walk away and heard his voice "Ya ain't gonna be far?"

"No, Honey. I'll be close by," She reassured, and felt a twinge of something at the sigh of relief and smile he gave her. She wandered past some of the other stones and read the dates.

Heath knelt beside the grave and pulled the letter out. He read it slowly and then carefully dug a small hole and buried it.

"Well, I guess I should be gettin' back. There's a fierce storm kickin' up and I don't want Mrs. Barkley to get sick. She sure is nice Mama. Ye'd like her a lot. She ain't fussy or nasty like some rich folks. " He paused, lifting his hand and tracing the letters of her name on the stone. He felt tears forming when he thought of Victoria Barkley. He heart ached for the loss of what could be. "I know ye'd want me love her and I want to...I want to so bad it makes my chest hurt, Mama. But I can't." He choked, letting the tears of frustration fall as the darkest clouds covered him and the winds picked up in force. Heath was so intent on his testimony, that he didn't see the visitor approach.

"Tears of absolution..." The cruel voice cut right through him. "She can't hear you. She's burning in Hell, paying for her sin of the flesh. You'll burn with her one day...you're a spawn of the devil and your soul is damned for all eternity."

"She is not!!" Heath stood and shoved the ranting minister hard. "She's in heaven, and she's an angel. Don't you talk about her!" Heath shouted, clenching his fist and striking the mad minister in the chest. A black nest of clouds rendendered the sky dark. The gale winds kicked up, sending gravel and leaves into a swirling dance.

"Insolent bastard," He raged, gripping Heath's neck "I'll call the hounds of Hell to take you back where you belong!"

At that moment, the wind ripped through the trees and a terrific, shreiking howl burst forth. Heath stopped struggling and his eyes grew wide. He felt sure he heard the hounds...his heart was pounding so loud, he was sure it would burst.

Victoria was at the side of the church went the sky went black. She fought against the wind and struggled to get back to Heath. She heard a scream and paused, listening intently. Had she heard wrong?

"MOTHER!"

"Heath..." She breathed, her heart in her mouth. She hadn't heard wrong. He was calling her...not Leah.

"MOTHER! MOTHER!"

He was terrifed and she couldn't see him. She shielded her eyes against the snapping teeth of the gale, and was nearly knocked over by a force hitting her. She felt him and tried to hold him, but he couldn't hear her. He was traumatized. She dropped to her knees and shielded him from the wind, trying to calm him down.

"Heath, I'm right here. You're alright." She shouted over the storm, as fat drops of rain began to pelt them. "Calm down...It's just the wind..."

"No....No...it's the hounds comin' for me," He fought against her, "They're gonna get me...I don't want to burn...No, let me go!" He pushed and ran away. She saw him heading for the cottage and turned back to towards the grave. She saw a figure slip into the side door of the church. The curtain moved inside the window and she saw the cruel face. She turned back and chased after Heath.

By the time she got to the cottage, she was soaked. She couldn't see Heath. She lit a lamp that was on the mantle over the fireplace. A soft light filled the room. She opened the hamper of food she'd brought and fished out a checked napkin. She wiped her face and looked around the room. He was huddled in the corner, curled up and shaking.

"Heath..." She covered the distance and dropped to this side. He buried himself in her neck, sobbing and shaking.

"Ya won't let them get me?" His voice was small, "Please...Mother...don't let take me away from ya."

"Nobody's going to take you away from me, Son," She said, brushing her hands through his damp hair, only to have her lips covered by his small hand. The face shot up, eyes full of remorse. She'd never seen such emotive eyes as his.

"No, don't say that..." He begged, "Y'all will go away too!"

"Go away..." She frowned, "Heath, I don't ..." Then she sighed an sank back, sitting on the floor. She brought him with her, rocking him and holding him close. It hit her hard, and it hurt deeply.

"What are you so afraid of?" She asked, needing him to say it.

"Iffen...if...ya is my mother, y'all will go away like Mama did..." He sobbed, giving her such a look of pain, it physically hurt.

"Oh Honey," She kissed his forehead and hugged him. "Is that what's been troubling you all this time?"

"Yes...Ma'am...since that day of the test."

"Why?"

"'Cause ya...ya...ya said I was yer boy..." He choked, hiccuped and then took a shuddered breath. "I wanted to be yer boy...It felt real good. But, I can't...I don't want to lose you too." He sobbed.

So there it was, finally purged after all these weeks of festering. She let him cry for a moment, then pulled him back and used the napkin to wipe his face. "Alright, Heath. You have to calm down now. You will make yourself sick. I want you to take some deep breaths." She coached and watched him regain control. "Now, listen to me, Son." She tipped his chin up and drank in the beautiful face. "You are my boy and I couldn't love you more. None of us know when God will call us home, Heath. Your mother was a fine woman, strong and brave. But you being her son didn't cause her death, no more than it would mine." She paused, watching him absorb her words. He slid next to her and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Doesn't this make your chest feel better?" She saw the head nod. "That love you feel gives you strength, comfort and helps you grow. Don't shut me out, Honey. I love you."

"I love you too," He paused, pushed himself to his knees and kissed her cheek. "...Mother." He rested his head against her neck and hugged her. "Ya know...I ain't got that pain no more. Looks like ya loved it right out of me."

She chuckled and welcomed the embrace. She rubbed his back and felt the tears running down her face. A loud bang interrupted the tender moment and Heath nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Don't let 'em take me, Mother."

She pulled him away sharply and addressed him. "What are you so afraid of? That was just a loose shutter, banging against the house."

"No...it was the hounds of Hell. They're comin' to take me. He said...he said...I was a demon...and Mama's in hell 'cause of me...and he called them hounds to take me too!" He argued, wrapping himself around her waist.

"The man in the churchyard? He told you that?" Her anger rose and she pulled him away. "Heath, that's utter nonense. He's a mean man whose sick in the mind. Your mother is in Heaven. I know she is, and I won't having you listening to such talk." She stated, shivering in the cold. She left him to the few remaining pieces of kindling into the fireplace. She drew a match from the box on the mantle and lit the fire. She went into the back room, and opened a few closets, finally finding some blankets Rachel left behind. She returned to find Heath warming himself by the fire. She laid the blanket down and they sat on it.

"Just like a real picnic," She opened the basket and took out the sandwiches and cookies. They ate quietly and she knew he was fielding a wealth of emotional turbulance. The eyes were blinking, fighting to stay awake. She pulled out the smaller blanket and wrapped him in it, letting his head rest in her lap.

"Mother?" His voice floated up. She felt her throat catch at the sound, it was so wonderful, she could almost taste it.

"Yes, Dear," She said, brushing his hair

"Ya won't tell Nick," He hitched himself up, "'bout me cryin'. I wouldn't want him thinkin' I'm a baby or nuthin'. It's just 'tween us, okay?"

"Just 'tween us," She repeated verbatim and crossed her heart. She saw the marks on his throat and pulled his shirt away. Very clearly were dark bruises of hand impressions. She hoped that Rev. White was an early riser. Because he was going to have a vocal visitor.

"Ya know," He said, eyeing her affectionately, "I kinda like this, just us. I know it ain't right not to share."

"I like it too," She smiled, as he settled back onto her lap. "I think it's important to have a special time, just for us."

"Maybe...iffen ya ain't too busy or nuthin'" Heath's hopeful voice wavered, "We could have us a rite nice visit after m'prayers. Would that be okay?"

"I was just thinking the same thing." She agreed, rocking him and watching the blue eyes sliding. She recalled a song, an old Irish lullaby that she'd sung to all her children. It still worked. She felt his tension ease and the rhythmic breathing. The was a brief pause in the deafening storm. A moment of tranquility and peace settled in the cottage. She smiled and placed her hand over his heart under the blanket. She lifted her eyes heavenward.

"Thank you, Leah...He's beautiful." She choked, eyes full.

Dawn broke, chasing the brutal storm away. It was early yet and the citizens of the small town weren't up. She rapped on the church door and waited. When no response came, she rapped again, louder.

"Yes, I'm coming" an irritated voice called. The door opened an a cranky, old man appeared in a robe.

"Are you Reverend White?" She said cooly.

"I most certainly am. What on earth couldn't wait for a few more hours?"

"This." She replied calmy, slapping his face hard. "My name is Victoria Barkley. That boy you've been terrorizing for nine years is my son, Heath. My husband is a powerful man and could easily crush a coward like you under his heels. I wouldn't be suprised if he pays you a visit, once he finds out what you've done and sees those marks on his son's neck." She enjoyed the color leaving his face and the visible effect of her lingering threat. Satisified, she turned to leave. "One more thing," She paused and slapped him hard again. "That's from Leah Thomson. Of course, you don't have to worry about meeting her again. Where you're going, they don't have room for courageous souls. They only have fire and brimstone."

She turned on her heels, leaving the trembling man in her wake. The sun seemed a little brighter on their journey home. Or maybe it was the light shining from her son's brilliant eyes.

Victoria shivered and pulled the wrap around her shoulders a little tighter. She eyed the mantle clock and sighed. She told herself worrying wouldn’t bring them home sooner, but still a mother worries. The cold night howled outside, causing the French doors across the room to shudder. Her gaze traveled from the doors to the large Christmas tree in the corner of the room. Its top

brushed against the ceiling. Lace garland was draped graciously around the massive tree. Burgundy and rose velvet bows decorated the branch tips. Dozens of ornaments, from the very expensive crystal angels imported from Paris to the wooden carvings and paper stars crafted by her children, gave the tree its colorful makeup. The gifts had been cleared away and all that remained was the holiday party she and Tom threw on January eigth.

Her eyes fell upon the reassuring crackling of the fireplace became hypnotic. She unconsciously fingered the small locket around her neck and smiled. She let her mind wander back four years, to another Christmas celebration.

FOUR YEARS PRIOR:

"Nick, ain’t ya done eatin’ yet?" Heath frowned at his dark-haired brother who was sitting next to him. "It’s almost eight-thirty." He impressed, popping off his chair and standing next to the hungry teen.

"What’s your problem Runt? Nick tossed back, throwing a slab of ham on his plate beside a pile of pancakes and fried potatoes, "That church ain’t gonna move before we get there. You think you’d never been to Christmas Services before." Nick scowled.

Heath dropped his head and backed up a bit. Tom saw the color rise to his cheeks and a flicker of hurt in the expressive eyes. Just that quick, it was gone, but not before Victoria noticed. She knew enough about the cruel minister in Strawberry to guess about his prejudicial tendencies. She guessed by the boy’s expression that he and Leah were probably forbidden to attend.

"May I be excused?" Heath asked. "I got something that needs tendin’ to."

"Alright, But don’t get dirty." Victoria warned, eyeing the handsome little suit he wore.

"Yes, Ma’am." He nodded, and ducked out of the room.

Nick noticed the lull in the room. For the last half-hour while they ate, the room had been a buzz with talk of the fine dinner Silas was preparing, the gifts that were piled high and the afternoon’s activities. He glanced up and saw his father staring at him.

"What’d I do now?" He protested over a mouth full of food.

"Nick, don’t talk with your mouth full." Victoria admonished. "You haven’t done anything. But Heath has a point. We should be leaving soon. Please finish up."

"Heath sure is excited about the hunting trip." Jarrod asked. Their eldest was home for a month over the holidays. He’d been spending a lot of time with his blond brother and enjoying every minute.

"I’ll say," Nick grumbled, "He’s been beatin’ my ear in all week."

"You didn’t seem to mind," Dante smirked, "If I recall correctly, you managed to fend off a large bear almost single handedly."

"It had one paw in the grave and we put it out of its misery." Jarrod laughed, "It wasn’t even moving."

"That’s alright," Nick shot back, "What the runt don’t know won't hurt him. I only stretched the truth a little."

"A little," Dante amazed, still grinning, "You said it had Jarrod and your father cornered and if you hadn’t been there…"

"That’s enough outta you." Nick threatened as Heath reappeared and approached Victoria timidly.

"All done?" She asked and saw the blond head nod.

"I was gonna save this ‘til later," He explained, placing a small crudely wrapped box in her lap. "But I think maybe you can open now."

She unwrapped the paper and saw a green velvet bag. She glanced at her husband who shook his head. Heath had declined his request for assistance in his holiday gift buying. She pulled out a small velvet box and opened it. Her eyes took in the delicate heart shaped locket with a rose etched on the front.

"It ain’t fancy or nuthin’ like yer other necklaces." Heath explained, "I was gonna give it to Mama,…" He bit his lip, "…but she died before…well anyhow, Merry Christmas Mother." He offered, with a kiss to her cheek.

"It’s lovely Heath." She drew him close and hugged him, "I don’t have a locket like this."

"Aunt Rachel helped me pick it out. I worked extra hours at the livery, so’s I could get it in time. Only they didn’t have ‘nuf of ‘em. But I showed her the picture and she cried." He smiled, "She kept the picture by her bed. It opens up, see…" He carefully opened it, revealing a small piece of a violet colored petal.

"Honey, what is this?" She puzzled.

"Well, I wanted to put somethin’ special in there for ya." He theorized studying her face. "That’s from the flowers we picked in Mama’s garden. That was my best day…when I got to be yer boy."

Victoria pulled him closer and felt her eyes filling up. "Thank you, Heath. I’ll treasure this always." She put the delicate chain on and heard a smattering of applause. Dante and Jarrod came over to admire it.

"Nice work, Chico," Dante saluted, ruffling the blond hair.

"You’ve have good taste Heath," Jarrod said, "You can help me shop next year."

Later that night after the last gift was opened and the house was dark and still. Victoria sat up late, enjoying some cinnamon tea. She finally went to bed and paused, eyeing her youngest son.

She entered his room and straightened out his tangled quilt. She brushed the locks of hair off his face and bent down and kissed his cheek. The locket fell forward and she smiled.

"It was my best day too, Heath." She murmured, "You’ll always be my boy."

A long bang caused the daydreamer to jump up from the chair and back into the present. She sighed and found herself quickening her step as she entered the foyer.

"Where have you been?" She demanded, eyeing the quartet at the door. "You were due home hours ago. You two are older and should know better," She chastised Jarrod and Dante.

"I’m sorry, Your Honor," the future attorney teased, bowing. "I throw myself at the mercy of the court." The twenty-one year old was a second year law student at the University of Pennsylvania Law School. Tom felt he needed to go back East to complete his studies. He had been home for three weeks and would be leaving at the end of the week to travel back. She was thankful he was safe in school. So many boys his age were losing their lives in the horrific War between the States. She’d heard Tom and him arguing loudly about it a few nights before. Jarrod wanted to take a sabbatical from school and enlist. Tom forbade it and Jarrod consented - for the time being.

"Aunt Victoria, Are you alright?"

"Hmmm…" She blinked, feeling a light touch on her arm. She smiled up at the handsome boy, who’d so quickly earned a place in her heart. It wasn’t long before Mr. and Mrs. Barkley dissolved into Aunt Victoria and Uncle Tom. By the time he’d turned eighteen, the boy had become part of the family. He was well respected by every man working on the ranch. The twenty-year old stood two inches over six feet and his dark good looks had every available girl

swooning. His charming personality didn’t hurt either. "I’m fine, dear," She patted his hand. "Where were you?"

"The storm knocked some trees into the road on Devil’s pass. We had to double back and ride home along the river." Nick offered. At seventeen, her lean son stood just at six foot. He’d graduated from school the summer before and now was quickly becoming Tom’s right hand. Although she worried her husband placed too much responsibility on the boy’s shoulders, Tom felt it was necessary. He worked Nick harder than the other hands and Nick thrived on the pressure.

A series of sneezes caused her to move between Nick and Dante. "Heath, are you sick?" She fretted, placing a hand to the grimacing boy’s head. "Aw, Mother, cut it out." The thirteen-year old protested, brushing straw off his coat. "I’m fine. Somebody thought it would be funny to dump me in the bed of straw in the barn." He scowled at Nick and Dante, "It got me to sneezin’ is all."

"Well, still, perhaps you should take some Castor Oil." She eyed the pink cheeks.

"You know Runt, I think that might be good idea." Nick smirked, elbowing Dante, his partner in crime. "What do you think Dante?"

"I think the boy needs at least two heaping tablespoons."

"I ain’t forgettin’ this." The blond warned, blue eyes glowering, "Y’all will be paid back in full. Ya best watch yer back."

"Well go get warmed up by the fire, before you get a chill." She advised, taking off his coat.

"I ain’t a baby," He protested, "Quit fussin’"

"Well alright," She mused, "I had some hot chocolate ready. But if you’re sure…"

"Well, maybe a little hot chocolate wouldn’t hurt." He decided. "We got any of Nick’s losers left." He asked and moved swiftly forward, Nick in pursuit.

"YOU GET BACK HERE." Nick growled, "I’ll show you who’s a loser. You just don’t appreciate my talent."

"Talent?" Jarrod and Dante said in unison, following the two younger boys into the cozy kitchen.

"You mind explaining that Nick?" Jarrod asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee and one for Dante. Nick and Heath took hot chocolate.

"You know Nick." Dante chuckled, picking up a large tin and pulling out a sugar cookie. He inspected the headless figure with singed feet carefully. "You’re right. It does take a certain degree of talent to create this…uh…uh…Jarrod help me out here." He puzzled scrunching his eyes at the unidentifyable form.

Jarrod took the cookie from Dante and held it up to the light. "Well…I’d say it was an angel cast out of heaven and decapitated. Heath?" He handed the cookie to the giggling blond.

"Nah…it’s that bear Nick killed. Ya know, when he saved yer life that time."

"Gimme them." Nick scrambled chasing Dante around the kitchen. The older boy held the tin of Nick’s ‘creations’ whose misshapen construction were born out of impatience. "You got no business eatin’ them, if yer gonna be so damn critical."

"I heard that Nicholas!" a voice warned from above.

"Aw, hell." Nick hissed, eyeing the ceiling and wondering how she always heard his voice.

"I heard that too." She called down. "Heath, finish up. I want you in bed in ten minutes. Your father wants to leave early in the morning." She noted of the annual hunting trip.

"Okay, Mother." Heath answered, "Twenty minutes."

"Nine and you’re wasting time." She replied.

She lingered at the top of the backstairs, listening to them cavort and roughhouse. The laughter that echoed through the halls was music to her hears. It wasn’t often all four of her boys were under the same roof. She drew her robe closer as a chill passed through her. The distant thunder

reminded her of the escalating war and how quickly one of her beloved sons

could be lost

Garrison David White pulled the muffler tightly around his neck and climbed into his carriage. He urged the team forward and eyed the surrounding hills. It was a sight he never grew weary of. As a child who’d arrived wide-eyed with his parents from England, he’d been taken by the rustic beauty of this state. A wilderness of great natural beauty, to which hearty frontiersman had trickled into over the years. Scores of rugged men bearing long rifles whom’d wrestled the land from the Indians.

He eyed the graceful mansions that lined the road on which he journeyed. Majestic beauties all of them. Fine brick mansions with proud columns and bounded by slave-built fences of limestone. Long tree lined lanes lead back to the lovely old park like properties. Such estates were built upon the rich black soil and the cotton, tobacco, sugar and hemp produced. Of course, the

breeding of fine horses had become its trademark.

His mind conjured up the image of the mountains crowned with pine forests and sporting isolated coves and tiny log cabins. Wisps of blue smoke curled up from simple stone chimneys with hound dogs howling at the moon on the front porch. This land bred men of Spartan independence and pioneer heritage. This spirit was never so evident as in the past fifteen months during the bloody War between the States. He likened the dividing line between the state to the same one the bloodied the arms of many brothers. The majority of the populace was of proud, fierce Scotch background. Blended over the years with Southern pride and tradition, many of his brethren were left scarred by the separatist issue. Families divided, sending their sons to wear both blue and gray.

He sighed and thought of his own two boys, safely ensconced in Oxford University, across the ocean. His father had returned to his native land ten years ago, and now the barrister was glad of that. His boys lived with their grandfather and would follow into the family tradition of becoming a lawyer. But until this bloody fest was done, they’d stay on terra firma.

He pulled his carriage in beside the brick building, which housed his law firm. Before the war, his clients had quite a wait. But these were trying times and he was glad to have any business. He felt the sting of the freezing rain on this gray December day. He shut the door behind him and nodded to his visitor.

"Good Morning Lucius," He greeted, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He relished the beverage as much for the warmth it provided his hands as to the taste. "My condolences on Mary’s passing. She was a fine woman, taken too young."

"Thank you, Garrison," The sixty-year old well dressed man nodded. His thick white hair was immaculately groomed, as was the body under it. "I’ve come about your notice. I think you’ve made a grievous error."

"I’m afraid there is no error, Lucius," He passed the paperwork across the desk, "Mary’s will is quite clear. The entire estate, all her monetary holdings, the land, house, all of it…passes to her only child. If that child were to predecease her, then it all goes to the church."

"THE HELL IT WILL," The elder man bellowed, rising and pounding his fist. "I made that land into what it is today and I’ll be damned if some dribble spouting preacher is going to seize it. There must be some sort of clause…or amendment..."

"I’m sorry, Lucuis, " He apologized, "I can’t help you."

He slammed the door and left the lawyer in his wake. He threw himself angrily on his horse. He was at the edge of town when a thought occurred to him. He quickly retraced his path and rejoined the lawyer.

"Did you forget something, Lucius?"

"Garrison, if my daughter had a child, what then?"

"If you can produce the child and the birth certificate, then it all passes to the child."

"You get the paperwork started. I’ll produce my grandchild."

"Your grandchild?" White puzzled, "Mary never mentioned any grandchild."

"She never knew about him. We disinherited my daughter years ago. I only found out about him after her death."

"How is that possible? I don’t understand…"

"Never mind about the small details," Garrison leaned forward. "I want this settled as soon as possible."

"Very well," The lawyer got a sheet of paper and a pencil, "What the child’s name?"

"Thomson. Heath Thomson. He’s almost fourteen years of age. He lives in California."

An hour later, Lucius Simmons was riding back to Briarcrest, the plantation he’d married into. It rose like a fortress above the black soil of Richmond, Kentucky where it stood. A widower with a teenage, ne’er do well son, he met the wealthy spinster and quickly saw dollar signs. Mary was an only child of a successful plantation owner. He’d marrried her after a whirlwind courtship.

Leah had been born a few years later. He’d added ground and crops. He also branched out into the horse breeding business.

Fourteen years of age…he mused of his grandson. An evil smile graced his lips. He’d endear himself to the boy. After all, he was the boy’s only relative. It would only be natural the boy would pass the land to him, should anything happen to him. Like any other patriotic follower of Jefferson Davis and the Confederacy, Lucius would see to it the boy wore the gray and served

the Stars and Bars. He laughed and urged his horse towards home. Despite the dreary gray murkiness and freezing precipitation , it was going to be a beautiful day after

A full moon shed some illumination on the game. It had been a successful hunting trip. Two deers and several ducks were ready for the trip back to Stockton. Moreover was the all too precious time he got to spend with his four boys. Time, like a stealth thief, was taking the years from him. The bright horizon that he longed to see for his sons' and their sons beyond, was obscured by the clouds of war. He'd taken a walk after dinner, his heart full. Everytime he looked at Jarrod, he worried. Graduation was only a few months away, and then his child would be stolen from him.

Tom stood in the clearing watching his sons bask in the glow that only comes with being young and fearless. Good young men, all four of them, and he was so proud. He eyed the three oldest and felt a fear grip him. Despite all his arguments, Jarrod would wearing Union blue by late spring, of that he was certain. He'd told his father on the way up to the cabin that he'd been in officer's training for several months. His gaze shifted to Nick and Dante. He'd seen Nick eyeing the distant horizon with wanderlust. Like most boy's his age, the call to arms sounded glorious. What the blind youths didn't know was the high price the answer came with. He could keep Nick to spring, but once he turned eighteen, and especially with Jarrod's decision, Nick would be leaving too. And what of Dante? He eyed the boy, sitting next to Nick on a log. The two were sharing some bawdy tale and laughing. Dante would go to protect Nick, for more than anything else, that was his calling. His heart was fullest when he gazed at Heath. The blond boy was yawning, fighting to stay awake. Jarrod was playing cards with Heath. At least he didn't have to worry about losing his youngest to the horrors of war.

Jarrod eyed his youngest brother and shuffled the cards a little longer. Heath was sitting next to him and shifted. The long day's ride and hunting detail left him weary. He watched the blue eyes drift shut and felt Heath's head hit his shoulder. He put the cards away and wrapped an arm around the boy.

"Mighty fine sight."

Jarrod looked up and smiled as his father approached. He watched the older man head inside and return with two cups of coffee. He handed one to Jarrod and sat on the porch step, on the other side of Heath.

"He's growing so fast..." Jarrod said quietly watching Heath doze.

"That he is," Tom said warmly, sipping his coffee. "At least I can keep him safe from the battlefield."

Jarrod winced and studied the starry sky. "It's something I have to do, Sir." He said quietly, "Do you remember when we visited Valley Forge? You told Nick and me about those soldiers who fought in the snow with no shoes? I dreamt about them....about the blood in the snow. To feel something so strongly. This country means that much to me, Father. Try to understand. I cannot claim citizenship and stand by idle."

"I do understand Jarrod, as an American and I'm damn proud." He paused, "But as a father, I'm

scared to death. I see you three as courageous young men, fighting for those ideals you hold strong. But I also see my three boys blood spilling on a faraway battlefield...dying alone and cold..."

Jarrod felt his chest tighten and gripped Heath a little tighter. He watched his father as the darkness desended, fighting to control his emotions. He saw him tenderly turn and stroke Heath's head. Heath turned and mumbled.

"Come on, Son," He managed, rousing the slumbering blond, "Time for bed."

Heath groggily made his way indoors. Jarrod was lost in thought, staring at the sky until a slap on the back joustled him.

"Deal them cards, Big Brother," Nick boomed, "I feel lucky and you got plenty of silver to lose."

"I don't think so, Chico," Dante squatted between the two. "the last time you felt lucky you ended up with Lucy Danvers hand across your face."

"Really?" Jarrod sat up interested, "Nick used his usual charm?"

"Is that what that was," Dante mocked seriously, enjoying Nick's scowl. "Nick said it was 'the move of the master' and I was supposed to pay attention."

"You do that Dante, and you'll end up a miserable old bachelor." Jarrod laughed.

"Are you two quite finished?" Nick grabbed his five cards and glared, "She's playing hard to get. She'll come around, you wait and see. I take two," He said tossing two cards at Jarrod."

"You got as much chance of getting anywhere with that girl as you do with winning this hand." Dante clamored, "I'll stand," He declined any cards.

"Lucy Danvers..." Jarrod mused, taking one card and tossing a coin in the pot, "Is she that pretty little redhead who you were dancing with at the church dance last week?" He asked the grinning Dante.

"A sweeter girl you'll never meet," The handsome boy winked at Jarrod, "It was mightly chilly that night...she sure kept my lips warm."

"WHAT!" Nick roared, "You keep your lips and any other moving parts away from her!"

Tom settled into the chair inside and flipped open the newspaper. He listened to the sounds of the young men outside and smiled. He thought how in the upcoming months how he would need to draw on the memories he was storing.

Cat Chilton moved into the tavern and took a corner seat Obscured by the dark interior and far from the few gathered near the hearth, he relaxed. He eyed the patrons with disinterest and sipped his whiskey. The stew had gone down easy and the saucy, plump serving wench was waiting in his bed upstairs. His lean frame stood six inches above six feet and he was solid muscle. His buckskin clothing and shoulder lengh dark gold hair made him a menacing sight. He relished the stares his appearance drew. Didn't matter what town he rode into, the stares stayed the same. He preferred it that way. The naked fear in their eyes, and the hushed voices behind their hands.

He saw the well dressed man enter and caught his eye. Nodding once, the silver hair man grabbed a pint of ale and headed towards him. He took a seat and looked at the well known bounty hunter. Cat Chilton got his nickname for the ease to which he was able to manuever through the terriain, any terrain. Mountains, deserts, plains, cities, it didn't matter. He was the best money could buy.

"You understand my request?" Lucius Simmons finally spoke, and saw the head nod once. "Good." He slid a leather pouch over. He watched Chilton count the offering and slip the pouch inside his jacket. "You'll get the rest when I have the boy. They're information on him inside. He's not to be harmed. How long?"

"Six weeks, maybe eight." The bounty hunter theorized. "It's winter and rough traveling. Don't know what I'm gonna run into. You said he's an orphan. That should make it a little easier. I'll keep you posted."

Chilton stood, grabbed a bottle of whiskey and made his way upstairs. Lucius Simmons watched him leave and took out a small talley book. He flipped to the back where the calander was. He crossed off today's day and smiled.

"Why can't I go?" Heath demanded. "I ain't no baby." He protested, following his father outside the cabin.

"Because I said so and that's reason enough." Tom retorted, buttoning his coat and climbing on his Palamino. "You stay inside that cabin, Heath. Do you understand me."

"Aw, hell." He complained, kicking the porch post and watching his father's sandy eyebrow raise.

"Now where did you pick that charming expression up?" He inquired, casting an eye to Nick who tried not to grin. "Come on, Boys, let's find that cat."

"See ya Runt," Nick tossed, passing the angry blond. "Maybe you can bake some cookies or something else real girl like, while we're gone."

"I'll show ya who's a girl..." Heath growled, gunning for Nick.

"Whoa!" Jarrod intercepted him and grinned at the temper-filled face. "He was only kidding, Heath. You know that cougar is dangerous. Trust father on this one, okay?"

Heath grumbled and felt Dante give his shoulder a squeeze as he passed by. The four rode out, seeking out the predator who'd made off with some of their game during the night and left plenty of tracks.

By noon, they'd turned up nothing. Tom eyed the cloudy sky and scented snow approaching. The tracks had disappeared into a pass that ran high in the mountains. He wanted to make one last pass by to make sure. "Dante and I will head back and meet you two at the cabin. There's a storm coming and I want to get on the road. You two take the river back, it's shorter and I'm worried about Heath." He nodded to his two sons, recalling the tracks they'd found headed in the opposite direction.

"Heath," Dante called out, eyeing the empty cabin. "He's not here Uncle Tom," He replied.

"Where would he go?" Tom fretted, "Damn that stubborn boy. I told him to stay put."

"He's Nick's brother." Dante shook his head and saw the tracks. "Looks like he headed down by the river. Maybe he went to fill the canteens."

"Let's have a look" Tom agreed.

"We're almost there," Nick called back to Jarrod, recognizing the smoke in the distance.

"Nick hold up a minute," Jarrod pulled up and got off his horse. "What's that?" He pointed.

Nick climbed down and eyed the fresh tracks. He fingered the dark maroon blood stains scattered around the tracks. "He's here...close by...these are fresh..." Nick whispered, creeping silently back to get his rifle. Jarrod squatted over the blood stains when the unmistakeable snarl of a large cat sounded.

Nick froze, and felt his blood turn to ice water. His heart was pounding so hard, he felt sure it was gonna break a rib. He saw the cat was on a rocky summit directly above them. One wrong move could prove fatal. For several agonizing seconds they trio remained in place. Then, with a feral cry, the cat sprung.

Heath had the two canteens filled and was about to head back up to the cabin. He sure hoped he didn’t run into his father. He wasn’t that far from the cabin and the cat was most likely already gone. He bent to pick up the canteens and his eyes caught color and movement down the river a ways. He recognized his brothers’ horses and started to wave. It was then that he saw

the large cat eyeing Jarrod like supper.

"No!" Nick screamed as the cat leapt. The crack of the shot startled him and he jumped slightly. He scrambled for his rifle, and then noticed the cat wasn’t moving. "Jarrod…Jarrod…" He called out frantically, squatting and rolling the dead animal off his brother.

Jarrod winced at the colorful language emanating from his brother’s mouth. "Nick, that mouth of yours would rival any dockworker in San Francisco. I’m fine."

"You stay put." Nick ordered, his face paling at the blood on Jarrod.

"It’s not mine," Jarrod relieved, sitting up. He gazed at the bullet hole between the cat’s eyes. "Dead center…" he whistled, glancing behind them. "Where did it come from?"

Nick hauled his brother to his feet and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Damn that was close…" He eyed the bloody bullseye, "Heath…" He answered Jarrod’s question.

"Nick, you can’t be serious," Jarrod tossed back, his voice rose in incredulation, &It’s a quarter of a mile to the cabin. That’s impossible. He could never aim and get a shot that accurate off."

"He can and he did," Nick replied calmly, "The runt’s gonna have quite a story

to tell."

"You’re serious, aren’t you," Jarrod said amazed.

"Damn right, I am," Nick boasted, "Wipe that look off your face. He is that good. Dead center deadly, so good he scares me. He don’t even have to try hard." Nick chuckled, "Course usually he ends up on his butt." Nick threw his bedroll on the ground and Jarrod helped him secure the carcass to Coco. Jarrod couldn’t stop staring at the perfect bullet hole.

"HEATH!" Tom screamed, hearing the shot. He saw Heath lying on the ground by the river and quickened his steps. "Heath…" He knelt down and sighed deeply, running his hands through his golden hair. "Boy, you’re gonna have me bald by my next birthday. What happened?" He eased Heath back to his feet.

"Damn thing kicks like a mule…" Heath complained of the rifle, rubbing his shoulder. The force of the shot knocked him clear off his feet. "I’m okay Pa. I was filling the canteens and saw Nick and Jarrod over there." He pointed to the spot way down the river.

"I don’t see them." Dante squinted, "Are your sure, Chico? That’s quite a distance."

"They was there." Heath was adamant. "That cougar was on a rock right above them. He was eyeing up Jarrod."

Tom’s eyes scanned the horizon, but didn’t detect any movement.

"If something had happened," Dante theorized at the anxious father’s side, "They would still be over there."

Before Tom could reply they heard Nick whooping. All three turned and headed back to the cabin.

"Are you two alright?" Tom’s voice was tinged with fear, "Jarrod…" His voice died, seeing the blood on the tan coat.

"I’m fine Father." Jarrod reassured, jumping down. Nick dropped off Coco wearing a grin a mile wide. His hazel eyes glinted with pride.

"HEY RUNT!" Nick hollered, slapping his brother on the back, "Nice going. You got ‘im right between the eyes. Take a look."

"I didn’t have hardly any time to think," Heath's wide eyes looked at the perfectly centered hole.

"You ended up in the dirt again?" Nick laughed, brushing the back of Heath’s pants.

"Cut that out!" Heath protested, wiggling free.

"Heath…" Jarrod’s voice squeaked out, "But…it was so far…How on earth?"

"I told ya," Nick said annoyed, glaring at Jarrod, "The runt’s got an eye. Don’t make up for his lack of brains though." Nick teased ruffling Heath’s pale hair.

Heath just shrugged and blushed as Dante and Nick continued to tease him. He felt Jarrod’s hand on his back "Thanks Heath…You saved my life."

"Nah…" Heath grinned, eyes twinkling, "I reckon he have tossed you back. You lawyer types are usually too hard to swallow."

Tom’s deep laughter joined the rest and he watched Jarrod mock-wrestle with Heath.

"Hey, Pa!" Heath choked, from behind Jarrod’s well placed arm along his neck. "What are we gonna do with him?"

"Take him back to the ranch." The boasting father proclaimed.

Eight weeks later, early March, San Francisco.

Cat Chilton left the post and telegraph office, his dual mission accomplished. The trip west had taken him longer than expected, as he’d encountered several severe storms. Strawberry had proved to be a bust, and he was now headed to Stockton. He’d spent the last two days checking out Thomas Barkley and realized this job would require a lot more work. He’d wired Simmons and asked for a raise. Simmons agreed and wired him half of the increase. He advised

the anxious Kentuckian that he’d have to spend some time in Stockton and study the family’s routine. Taking the boy from the huge ranch was out of the question. He’d have to camp outside town in the hills and devise a new plan.

He made his way to the ticket office and climbed aboard the train. He settled into a back seat and dropped his hat over his eyes. The jerk of the car gave way to a steady motion that lulled him into a doze.

"Nick, hey Nick," Heath called out, struggling with the frisky calf, "How fast?

Nick…"

"Huh?" Nick blinked and frowned, "Sorry Runt, you caught me…" He apologized, "

Go on and get another one."

Nick watched Heath scramble back onto his horse. He couldn’t help smile at the tenacity in his brother’s stance. He grinned as the blond effortlessly roped a calf and slid down, completing his job. "Twenty -eight seconds…not to shabby. Course you’re no Nick Barkley." He strutted.

"Reckon I’d be all wore out by now…" Heath tossed back, "and I don’t think Mother would survive two Nick’s."

"Nah, guess not." Nick draped an arm around Heath as they walked back to the fence. "’sides a pretty boy like you couldn’t wear the name Nick."

"Who you callin’ pretty?" Heath drew back into a boxing stance.

"You blondie…" Nick jabbed.

Duke grinned as the pair squared off. Oh, they still butted heads and had their share of fights, but they were a natural fit. Heath's quiet continence made Nick complete. Nick’s natural bravado and leadership drew out the younger boy. Yes, Fate sure smiled upon them. Tom Barkley’s buttons popped off his shirt every time he looked at the two of them working together.

He glanced at the dark clouds gathering and whistled, waving the two over.

"You two best head back to the ranch before that storm hits." He advised, shaking his head at Heath. "Get over here," He ordered, "Get that coat buttoned and keep your collar up. The sun’s goin’ down and it’s chilly today."

"Aw, cut it out Duke," Heath scowled, "You’re worse than Mother.

"Come on, Runt," Nick jabbed him, "I’ll race ya!"

Cat got a room at the boardinghouse on the outskirts of town. He picked up some work clothes at the mercantile. His buckskins would stand out in a town like this. He ate a hearty dinner and managed to fend off the well meaning, but nosy proprietor. The stout woman asked too many questions. He sought refuge in the dark of the night. He slipped down the street and headed for the Saloon. His first stop was usually the quickest way to pick up information. He eyed the clientele carefully before selecting a trio playing cards.

"Join ya?" He asked the oldest of the trio, a burly man with a bushy gray beard. The other two were young, in their twenties maybe.

All three looked up at the stranger. Isaac Price scratched his beard and nodded at the empty chair. He motioned for the waitress to bring another glass. The stranger ordered a bottle and tipped the girl well. Her eyes appraised the man and lingered suggestively. He nodded once and she smiled, leaving a bottle and confirming her bed wouldn’t be empty.

"Five card stud, deuces wild." The old man crowed.

Cat sat in for several hours, keeping his winnings to a minimum. The more the trio won, the more they drank. The more they drank, the looser their lips became. He found out that Tom Barkley was a force to be reckoned with. He’d scouted part of the perimeter of the vast landowner’s holdings and ruled out getting a job. He eyed the young man next to him, the lone survivor of the

game. The old man and the other left. He slid another shot at the boy, who he noticed was very drunk. The table was in the corner and obscured from view. He managed to find out a little more about Heath Barkley. By the time the youth’s head hit the table, snoring in blissful inebriation, Cat had his plan formulating. He caught the curvaceous saloon girl’s eye and nodded.

Nick eyed the angry clouds and felt the temperature drop. He glanced back at his brother who was shivering, wearing only a thin jacket. He saw the line shack and headed off the road, knowing Heath would follow him. By the time he slid off Coco and tied her up, fat drops of rain were coming down. He grabbed Paladin’s reins and Heath jumped down, heading for the door.

"That was close." Heath shouted, slamming the door behind Nick.

"It’ll pass in an hour or so," the older boy advised, "We wait it out."

Heath slumped onto the floor, resting his head against the wall. Nick took a similar position, a few feet away. Although they sat in silence, Heath knew Nick was troubled. The last few weeks he’d been quieter and restless. The blond boy knew where Nick’s thoughts were and thinking about it gave him a pain in his stomach.

"Spit it out, Runt," Nick finally spoke. Like his sibling, he had an uncanny ability to read the other, and even more so when he was silent.

"You’re leavin’ ain’t ya?" Heath whispered painfully, "for the Army…"

"Yeah." Nick managed, "I got the papers last week after I turned eighteen."

"Does Pa know?"

"No." Nick barely replied, wincing the tremor in Heath’s voice. Don’t look at him, he told himself. Keep your head down, away from those blue beacons of his. "Listen, Heath this stays between us, understand? I’m gonna tell him and Mother tonight after dinner. I leave in ten days for Virginia."

"Yeah…" the small reply came, "…sure Nick."

Heath dropped his head and studied the rough limbering on the floor. He felt his face flush with color and his chest tighten. Nick only called him ‘Heath’ when he was worried. Like all young boys’ Heath read every account he could of the war. He also heard his parents talking in the study late at night. Jarrod already got his commission and would be heading out in early May. He knew Nick could hear the muskets and cannonballs already. He’d seen that faraway look in his eyes. The inevitable picture formed in his head, of his brother lying dead on a faraway battlefield. His eyes filled and he shivered. He felt that strong arm wrap around his shoulder.

"Hey," the voice cascaded. "I never go back on my word. Never."

Heath never heard Nick’s voice so soft. He heard the last part of the message end in a choke. He nodded; remembering the vow Nick made over four years ago. It had been a Sunday afternoon just before Thanksgiving. Nick had Paladin saddled when they got home from church. He didn’t give Heath a chance to ask where they were going. He simple handed him the reins. Heath

followed, without questioning Nick. It was a feeling he’d come to embrace and welcome over the years. They stopped at a pretty spot near the river. A large tree sat on a grassy knoll. They talked about a lot of things that afternoon. All their hopes and dreams, fears and problems, things that they only shared with each other. It became a Sunday afternoon tradition, golden moments basking in youth and brotherhood. Nick made a vow that day, that they would always be together on this ranch, riding on the wind. He carved a marking on the tree, the letters ‘N’ and ‘H’ joined. The upper extension of the N’ became the start of the ‘H’, joined in a strong bond. That how Nick saw it, and they sealed the emblem with their blood.

Heath took a deep breath and nodded, "I ‘member Nick." He mumbled, "But…y’all keep yer head up, okay? And…and…watch yer back" Heath choked.

"Listen Runt," Nick teased, gripping the downcast shoulder with a firm shake, "Who do think taught you to shoot so damn good? Huh? Don’t you go worryin’ on Nick Barkley. You need to be strong, for Mother."

Nick left his arm on Heath’s shoulder as they waited out the storm. It was a solitude he’d come to treasure since Heath arrived. Very few people understood Heath as well as he did. Heath had become so much a part of him, that he could read the blond’s silent transmissions from deep within. The power of the bond they shared awed him at times. He’d known for a long time

that Heath was the stronger one. He didn’t envy the pain of separation. It would be like leaving half of him behind.

He heard the rain letting up and stood. He made his way to the window and thenopened the door.

"Come on Boy," he boomed, "Let’s head home."

"Can we play poker again?" Heath piped up, wiping his eyes and trotting behind Nick.

"We’ll see…" Nick replied, not ready to lose any more money. "You sure you haven’t been sneakin’ out at night, hustlin’ hands at the saloon?" He inquired of the boy’s uncanny ability to win at poker.

"Don’t need to go that far," He cast a crooked grin, "Got me fine pickin’s at home."

"Don’t get cocky, Runt." Nick warned, urging Coco north, "I don’t want to have to shoot ya before supper."

Nick captured Heath’s contagious laughter as is chased by him. He wrapped in his fist and buried deep inside his heart. He wanted to savor that sound, and the smile and those damn blue eyes. He knew he would be calling on it often in the dark days ahead of him.

Breakfast seemed more like a funeral than the usual cheerful morning meal. Nick ate early and rode out before the rest of the family had arisen. Heath wasn't hungry. His ears still rang from the loud exchange the night before between his brother and father. He ate the pancakes without tasting them. He noticed his mother's eyes were puffy from the unseen tears she'd shed.

Church services seemed longer than usual. Heath shifted in his seat and his eyes slid to the window. He was so lost in thought, he didn't hear the call for the recessional hymm. Audra nudged him and made a face. He'd ridden behind the family on Paladin. His only thought now was to ride to the river.

His shoulders slumped in relief when he saw Coco. He jumped off the horse and rummaged in his saddle bag. He tossed a sack at Nick and sat down beside him. They ate in silence. Nick finally moved to fill his canteen.

Nick wanted this afternoon to be special, one he'd remember in the months ahead. It was his last Sunday with Heath. He was leaving Friday for Alexandria, Va. He'd get his orders when he arrived. It hurt more than he'd ever admit, that look in his father's eyes. Not the proud beam he was used to, or the steely glare that put fear in the hearts of most men, but a raw fear. It was brief, but long enough for Nick to feel it.

He glanced at Heath, bent over a book. He managed a small grin, he still didn't understand what his brother found so interesting in those novels. He wanted to tell Heath so much, but no words would come. He settled back down and took a long swig, passing the canteen to the somber blond. Maybe it was better this way. Sometimes all he needed was to feel Heath's strength. They sat for some time, each drawing from the other. Nick saw the sun beginning to slide lower and slipped a hand into his chest pocket.

"Listen up, Runt," He swallowed hard, the words stumbled out with difficulty, "I got somethin' for ya."

Heath stared at the strange metallic disk, as Nick placed the chain carefully over his head. At first glance, it appeared to he half of a silver dollar. But upon closer examination, it was half of a hand crafted medallion.

"See," Nick said, pulling the matching half from the chain on his own neck, under his shirt. He held it closer and Heath placed the matching on beside it. They fit together, equals halves of a whole. On one side was the Barkley brand, on the other the symbol Nick created years before. The 'N' and 'H' merged into one continuous line. "...I made it myself. I...Aw, Hell, I had this all straight in my head last night. Just the right words to let you know...how...much...damn." Nick slumped backwards, pounding the ground.

Heath bit his lower lip and clenched the medal in his palm. It must be his imagination, feeling the heat radiating from the gift. His eyes shifted to his beloved older brother. Didn't Nick know? He smiled and sat crosslegged beside Nick. He saw the emotions playing havoc on Nick's face.

"Nick...you don't need any words. You never did. I hear you all the time. I know what you feel. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes I feel so proud my heart is bustin, but mostly, it just feels right. Reckon I ain't never gonna understand how...but I sure am glad. You see, this..." He held the disc on his chain out and waited for Nick's eyes, "...this was me before I got you Nick..." with that he joined the two halves..."and this is us now...the circle can't never be broke. Ya understand?"

Nick did understand and was glad his brother did too. Heath was right, sometimes words got in the way. "Sometimes, Little Brother," Nick said softly, eyeing the horizon, "You leave the rest of us way behind."

"Huh?" Heath cocked his head and Nick locked him in a choke hold. "Cut that out..." He squirmed, then righted himself. "You and Pa ain't still sore, are ya Nick?"

"Nah...I don't think so." Nick took another swig of water, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, "I remember when I was real little, riding in front on him on his Palamino. I tell you what, Heath, I never felt so safe in my life. God..." Nick's voice tightened and his eyes glinted, "it was like being invincible...that strong arm clasping you to his chest. I felt ten feet tall." Nick grinned, "Every Sunday afternoon, he'd take me around the ranch. 'One day, all this will be yours.' He'd say. The older I got, the more I felt that pressure. Sometimes it scared me to death..."

"You ain't scared of nothin' Nick" Heath argued, only to have Nick glare.

"I'm scared of lots of things," Nick drilled, "Any man who claims he ain't...is lyin' flat out. Anyhow, since you came...well, it don't scare me anymore. With you and Dante, I got that feeling back, like when I was little, riding with father."

"I'll look out for him," Heath read Nick's mind, "...'til you get home again. I might even take to shoutin' and stompin' around the house, so's he'll think your still here."

"Come on, Runt..." Nick laughed, and hauled his brother up, "Let's ride."

Heath started for the horse and stopped dead in his tracks. A awful sense of foreboding washed over him. He felt a deep pain and shook his head. He took several deep breaths and his shaking legs got him to Paladin.

"Tom?" Victoria's surprised voice caused the handsome man to turn. "What are you doing in here?"

She glanced around the playroom, which Audra didn't use anymore. Long forgotten were the rows of toys, sitting forlornly on cold shelves. She gripped the back of his shoulders and smiled. Here was one of the most powerful men in California, feared by many and respected my even more, sitting calmly on the floor of the nursery. His face was lost in thought. She eyed the soft-cloth animal he held. "Oh My..." She slid on the floor next to him and his hand clasped hers. "...Charlie...I haven't thought about him in years." She lifted the calico horse to her cheek and brushed the cloth across her face.

"There was time when that little horse went everywhere with Nick..." The nostalgic father recalled, "Then one day, it wasn't there anymore. Just after he started school. I remember thinking he'd forgotten it and tucked it in beside him. He was fit to be tied. 'I ain't no baby anymore' He protested." Tom sighed and took the cloth horse from his bride. "He was always so anxious to grow up...always hurrying to wear bigger boots."

The catch in his voice caused Victoria to turn his face towards hers. She saw two tears racing haphazardly down his cheeks. She leaned over and kissed each one tenderly, then kissed the lips of this man she loved so much. Charlie rested snugly between them. Tom rubbed his eyes and picked the small horse up at eye level.

"Today, I missed that little boy terribly." He choked, "For a split second last night, in that study, I thought I saw him hiding, but then he was gone...and a stranger stood in his wake. Tall and proud...a man...my son...in battle." His voice cracked...I'm losing him..."

"No..." She said, tilting his chin up. "That young man and his brothers are the very best of what God created and what we rendered. Everything you taught them about life and love and joy and sorrow will always be with them. And when they return." She stopped, gripping his face, her voice became hard, "...and they will return. You'll see those men bestow that gift on their sons"

He sighed and rested his head against her chest. She stroked his hair and brushed the top of the golden locks with her lips. Her eyes rested on Charlie and she heard that joyful shriek. She watched a devilish toddler with an unruly head of dark hair race through the room, clutching a calico horse. Chasing him was his handsome older brother. Then the child's laughter was replaced by cannon balls and gunfire. She flinched and the room was full of shadows and skelatons again as the afternoon sun slid by, engulfing them in darkness.

"Nick , you awake?"

"What do you want, Runt?" Nick growled, hitching himself up in his elbows. "It's almost midnight."

Heath padded through the room and over to the chair near the window. Nick turned the lamp up just enough to see and joined his brother. Heath laughed at the dark hair, standing up and askew.

"What's with your hair Nick?"

"Is that what you got me outta bed for?"

"No..." Heath's tone changed and "I was lookin' out the window at the moon. It's a full moon tonight." Heath stood and held the disc up. "See...it's just the right size...covers exactly half."

He felt Nick behind him and grinned as he saw Nick mimick his move. "So...I was thinking, Nick. On nights when the moon is full, iffen we each hold the medal up...it'd be like we was together. Ya know?"

"Midnight." Nick finally replied, "that is if a runt like you can stay awake that long."

Heath grinned, satisfied that his idea worked. Nick clapped a hand on his shoulder and turned him toward the door. "You better get back to bed. You got school tomorrow."

Heath started to move and got the same sick feeling he had by the river. A coldness that chilled him to the bone. A smothering sense of foreboding. He shivered violently, and rocked back on his heels.

"Hey, you okay?" Nick grabbed the wavering body and saw the blue eyes locked in fear. "What's wrong?"

"Don't die on me, Nick..." Heath whispered, clutching the chain.

Nick pulled Heath against him into a brief bearhug. He felt the soft hair against his face and closed his eyes for a moment as a sharp pain ripped through him. Then he turned Heath and walked him to the door. "Goodnight, Runt."

"Goodnight Nick."

Cat watched the boy carefully, as he hid in the brush. He'd been studying the boy's patterns. On Mondays, Heath stopped on the way home from school and sat by the river, whittling. He spent close to an hour before heading for the ranch, which was another forty-five minutes. The boy slid off his horse and grabbed his canteen. He took out his wood and his knife and then took a long swig.

"That's it boy," Cat drawled, "Take a good long drink..." He smiled and waited. It wouldn't be long before the drug took effect.

Heath began to work on the small piece of wood. He was making a chess set for Dante as a surprise. He shook his head as the wood went out of focus. He blinked and tried to move, but before he could, he slumped sideways.

Cat moved in and poured a small amount of chloroform onto a cloth. He held is across the blinking boy's nose and mouth. Once he was satisified the victim was subdued, he put the cloth away. He eyed the black clouds rolling in and smiled, the pieces were falling into place. He threw the boy's hat in the river. He took several pieces of cloth from his shirt and placed them in the rocks. He took off one boot and wedged it in the slippery rocks. The knife and wood were forgotten. He carried the unconscious boy back to the wagon and placed him in the rear, covering him securely. By the time they discovered the little heir was gone, he'd be closing in on the Nevada border.

Tom ran into the bunkhouse as a large clap of thunder shook the frame. He glanced around the half empty room.

"Sure is a fierce storm building up. Something wrong, Tom?" Duke asked

"I can't find Heath." Tom's voice was laced with fear. "Ciego hasn't seen him. He always brushes down Paladin when he gets home. If I wasn't stuck across from that washed out bridge, I would have noticed him missing sooner. His mother is at Millie's and it wasn't until I met Ciego that..."

"All right, everybody out, Heath's missing." Duke bellowed to the eight hands in the room. "Spread out in pairs and cover the path to town."

"Nick and Dante are backtracking to the school. I'm going after them."

"You want me to send somebody for Fred?" Duke asked of the Sheriff.

"Yeah..." Tom nodded, rubbing his face, "God let him be okay." the worried father implored as another clap of thunder sounded.

"There..." Dante pointed, screaming over the howling wind and wincing at the rain stung his face.

"Paladin..." Nick screamed, jumping from his horse and slipping in the mud. "HEATH! HEATH! Jesus, I can't see him Dante...Where is he?"

Dante's eyes roamed the area and he jogged down to the river's edge. "Madre Maria..." He blessed himself as he saw Heath's boot stuck in a clump of rocks in the raging river. "No..." He stumbled forward.

"What is it?" Nick called, running after him. Dante was wading out, reaching for it and the current took his legs away.

"Dante!" Nick lunged and grabbed the dark head just as it disappeared under the murky, violent water. It took all of their combined strength to get back on land. Dante coughed up half the river with Nick pounding on his back.

"What'd you do a fool thing like that for?"

Dante was glad his water logged lungs caused his chest to heave. It masked the terror in his voice. He held up the boot.

"Heath?" Nick whispered painfully, then stood, "NO! NO!" he tore back towards the angry current.

"Nick...stop it." Dante tackled him, "He's gone...You felt that current. We're both a lot heavier and stronger than him. It's been hours, Nick..."

"Get off of me...damn you..." Nick fought, lashing out with all his strength.

Dante took every blow stoically, already numbed by the horrific pain of loss. He didn't feel his lip split or the shot to his eye. He didn't flinch as the blows landed on his ribs. He held onto Nick with an iron grip. Finally, Nick collasped exhausted. The sheets of rain enveloped them. Dante rocked the shell-shocked Barkley.

"It's okay, Chico..." He choked, "I've got you..."

That's how Tom and Duke found them. He slid to halt and saw Dante's bruised and battered face. He heard the ragged breaths and tried to pry Nick from Dante's arms.

"No..." Dante turned defensively, "Leave him alone..."

"Take it easy, Son," Duke tapped the pale face. "What happened?"

Neither boy spoke. Tom couldn't see Nick's face at first. He managed to pry one of Dante's arms free and saw Nick clutching something against him. Nick's eyes met his at the same time he recognized the object. The raw anguish in his son's face broke his heart. He took the soggy boot in his trembling hands as the gravity of the situation gripped him.

"It was in the river...way over by those rocks..." Dante choked.

"Heath!" Tom screamed racing for the murderous current.

"Tom No!" Duke grabbed him, screaming against the gales and over the thunder. The torrential rain drowned out the agonizing screams of the lost father.

A grim pall hung over the house. The air of grief and despair spread throughout the ranch. Despite the dozens of men Tom issued to search the riverbank, not trace of his son was found.

Neighbors had stopped over to express their condolences for the well liked lost boy. Tom had posted a hefty reward, but there had been no takers.

It was close to midnight and he sat alone in the study, sipping a brandy. His hand reverently touched the wooden carving of a father and son, crudely hewn, but scored with love. Heath worked for months on it and gave it to his father at Christmas. It sat on his desk, a constant reminder of his blond treasure, now lost. He didn't know how to go on without Heath. The halls still echoed with his joyous 'Hey Pa!' and that blond whirlwind flying at him. How his arms ached to hold his golden child. Victoria had been his saving grace. Without her strength these past days, he'd have buckled under. Now in the morning, he had to watch his eighteen-year old son leave for a faraway battlefield.

The intense pain that coursed through him had crested after the first several days and left an unending dull throb in it's wake. He ate little and slept even less. He had no more tears left to shed. He stood and walked to the mantle, where a family picture, taken in San Francisco over the holidays, stood. Heath handsome face was just starting to mature. The enormous loss washed over him again.

"Uncle Tom?" The unsteady voice called, after a tap at the door.

"Come on in, Dante." He replied, leaving his pain with a heavy sigh at the fire.

He winced at Dante's battered face. The swelling on the was gone and it was a nice shade of scarlett streaked with purple. Dante had been a silent specter these last few days. Leaving before dawn to throw himself into work and returning after dark. Part of that was due to keeping Nick in his sight. Nick was utterly and totally lost, devoid of any feeling. His face was a pale mask of mourning. He spoke little, ate next to nothing and slept even less. He was like a dead man walking. Dante never left his side, which Tom was grateful for. Nick spurned both his mother and father's arms, when they reached out to help him with his grief. He tolerated Dante, although he didn't speak to anyone, he allowed the older boy to work with him.

"How's that eye?"

"It's fine..." Dante offered a weak grin, "It makes me appreciate being on the right side of Nick's temper."

"Nick asleep?"

"No...he's brooding in Heath's room. I uh...well..." He sighed and walked over to stand before Tom. "I enlisted today."

"Well, I'm not surprised," He rested a hand on the boy's shoulder, "I've been expecting this annoucement. I know you won't leave him."

"No, Sir, I can't." Dante reasoned, "It might be two days from now, two weeks or two months, but there will come a day when Nick will finally grieve. There's a whole lot of pain in him, festering with each passing day and it's gotta come out. It's gonna be hard and most likely painful," He touched his bruised face, "But when it happens, in some bloodied field, amidst gunfire and carnage, he won't be alone. I be there to save him."

"...from himself." Tom thought outloud.

"Probably. In any case, we'll be together. Looking out for each other, you know?"

Tom brushed the bruised cheek and let him thumb trace the cheekbone. His eyes grew full when he took in what a fine man the courageous boy he first met in Sacramento had become. He loved him as much as his own boys. He left his hand slide down to Dante's shoulder and pulled the boy into an embrace.

"Thank you...With you two on the same team, I don't think those Rebel's have much of a chance."

Tom said, walking slowly with Dante towards the door. He left his arm around the tall boy's shoulders.

"I want you to know, Sir." Dante's voice was full. "How much this home means to me. You and Aunt Victoria..." He bit his lip. "God I'm gonna miss you. I'll make you proud."

"You already have, Son." Tom gripped the back of his neck, "Every day when you ride out. Your Aunt and I will sleep a little easier at night, knowing Nick's guardian angel is on the job."

"Goodnight, Uncle Tom."

"Goodnight, Dante."

Cat gave the young woman ahead of him in line a lazy smile. He eyed the gray sky above the Rocky Mountains in Denver and pulled his coat collar up. He kept an eye on the boy, who was sleeping on a bench, propped against the wall inside the station. He purchased two tickets encompassing the final leg of the journey; through Kansas and Missouri and into Kentucky. He spotted the telegraph counter and sent Simmons a wire.

He slid onto the bench next to the slumbering boy. A gray-haired widow across from him glanced from him to Heath and back to him.

"Just lost his Ma...he's been awful sick. I'm taking him to his Grandpa in Kentucky."

"Poor Dear," She shook her head.

He settled back onto the seat and eyed the clock. First boarding would be in a half hour. He wrapped the blanket a little tighter around the boy's frame. The opiate derivitive he'd been feeding the boy in his water and food was worth every penny. When he was awake, he was extremely confused and disoriented.

The first few days, Heath had called out for his family. But Cat's persuasive tongue and the expensive drug provided by a Chinese apothocary in San Francisco, had proved to be a winning combination. At best he was semiconscious, just awake enough to eat and drink. Cat told him the same story over and over. Now his subconscious believed what it had been fed repeatedly.

"Come on Heath," He shook the boy, rousing him.

Heath blinked and stood on shaky legs. Cat supported him and led him into the train. He eased him down into a seat. The porter collected the ticket and eyed the pale face, accented by dark circles. A businessman slid into the vacant seat across from Heath and Cat.

"You thirsty?" Cat asked, and saw the puppet nod. "Okay, I'll go to the Dining Car and get you some tea." He tucked the blanket around the dazed youth. "Keep an eye on the Kid for me?"

He asked the well dressed man, who nodded. Shortly after Cat departed, the man saw Heath weave in the seat.

"You okay, Son?"

"Yes Sir," Heath mumbled. "I've been feeling poorly, but I'll be better soon."

"Oh? Are you going to some special clinic or seeking a specialist?"

"No, Sir." Heath managed to turn his head enough to see the man. "I'm going to live with my Grandpa. My Ma died...we was both real sick. Grandpa sent for me, after she passed."

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother. I hope your health returns soon. I'm David Exton. I'm traveling to Kansas City."

"I'm Heath Thomson," Heath nodded, blinking to stay awake, "I'm goin' to Kentucky. My Grandpa has a plantation."

Cat smiled from the doorway and stirred a drop of the powerful drug in the tea. He'd weaned him off the drug gradually, just as the druggist recommended. By the end of the week, Heath would be deposited with Lucius Simmons and Cat would be reap his biggest payroll. By the time Heath was off the drug and in his new home, all memory of his recent past would be erased. Cat smiled and slid into his seat. The grateful boy wrapped his hands around the warm mug and sipped the sweet tea. The train whistle sounded and the final leg of the journey was underway